Tuesday, June 29, 2010
Shenanigans
Play Idea: "Shenanigans" starring Katie Carriero and Jen Stearns. Each scene ends in Jen and Katie discussing the events going on around them and how it was a failure. "Shenanigans" they say to each other. And it proceeds to the next scene where other events happen in a continuous stream. Last scene: Katie = trying to get with a guy at a party they are throwing. Jen = trying to get with a girl at a party they are throwing. At the end of the party the four are left and the guy and girl end up hooking up while Jen and Katie end up on the couch discussing the events: "Shenanigans" they say.
Click or Treat
Imagine the situation:
A seven-year-old girl walks to the bus stop everyday with another young girl in the neighborhood. As time progresses they develop a friendship. Naturally, seven-year-old girl hopes to go trick-or-treating with her bus stop friend. This seems fair enough.
Until the parents get involved.
Now before I give details, let me point out we are dealing with a parent who goes by the name of "Cricket." Yes. And this should be a sign of trouble. If your name is also the name of a brown-nosed, high-class, snobby game played in England, (though not spelled the same) you're bound for pretentiousness. And we are delivered with nothing less.
So Mom of seven-year-old girl is not "in" with the other moms in the neighborhood (including Cricket). She does not attend their supper club. Which, obviously, is a horrible thing. I mean, come on, you're a mom with a full-time job, a house, a husband, two kids, a dog, there is still plenty of time left for supper clubs and well, all Moms should be a part of them because they are just the be-all, end-all best thing ever.
So Cricket, the head of the supper club, after being informed of the desire of seven-year-old girl to go trick-or-treating with her daughter (bus stop friend) is absolutely appalled. I mean, who does seven-year-old girl think she is? Her daughter cannot be seen with seven-year-old girl when seven-year-old girl's Mom isn't part of the supper club! Unheard of! Absolutely absurd! What was going through that child's head?? Doesn't she know anything? (She might know how to play a piano, but that's besides the point).
So naturally, Cricket writes a hand-written letter to seven-year-old girl's Mom explaining in four pages of detail why seven-year-old girl cannot trick-or-treat with her daughter. (Honestly, the nerve of some people, thinking their kids can just be friends and trick-or-treat with each other without considering the social repercussions.)
Cricket. Her name is Cricket.
Now this is some Desperate Housewives meets The Stepford Wives (Bette Midler version of course) type stuff. You have GOT to be kidding me. A child can't trick-or-treat with her friend because their moms don't socialize in the same circle????? This really happens in real life? Unreal. And as flustered as I am to know that this is a true story, being angry about it isn't worth my time, because it is absolutely absurd and there are just NO words. And, though I do secretly want to be able to tell people that I smacked a woman named Cricket, I will just pretend.
A seven-year-old girl walks to the bus stop everyday with another young girl in the neighborhood. As time progresses they develop a friendship. Naturally, seven-year-old girl hopes to go trick-or-treating with her bus stop friend. This seems fair enough.
Until the parents get involved.
Now before I give details, let me point out we are dealing with a parent who goes by the name of "Cricket." Yes. And this should be a sign of trouble. If your name is also the name of a brown-nosed, high-class, snobby game played in England, (though not spelled the same) you're bound for pretentiousness. And we are delivered with nothing less.
So Mom of seven-year-old girl is not "in" with the other moms in the neighborhood (including Cricket). She does not attend their supper club. Which, obviously, is a horrible thing. I mean, come on, you're a mom with a full-time job, a house, a husband, two kids, a dog, there is still plenty of time left for supper clubs and well, all Moms should be a part of them because they are just the be-all, end-all best thing ever.
So Cricket, the head of the supper club, after being informed of the desire of seven-year-old girl to go trick-or-treating with her daughter (bus stop friend) is absolutely appalled. I mean, who does seven-year-old girl think she is? Her daughter cannot be seen with seven-year-old girl when seven-year-old girl's Mom isn't part of the supper club! Unheard of! Absolutely absurd! What was going through that child's head?? Doesn't she know anything? (She might know how to play a piano, but that's besides the point).
So naturally, Cricket writes a hand-written letter to seven-year-old girl's Mom explaining in four pages of detail why seven-year-old girl cannot trick-or-treat with her daughter. (Honestly, the nerve of some people, thinking their kids can just be friends and trick-or-treat with each other without considering the social repercussions.)
Cricket. Her name is Cricket.
Now this is some Desperate Housewives meets The Stepford Wives (Bette Midler version of course) type stuff. You have GOT to be kidding me. A child can't trick-or-treat with her friend because their moms don't socialize in the same circle????? This really happens in real life? Unreal. And as flustered as I am to know that this is a true story, being angry about it isn't worth my time, because it is absolutely absurd and there are just NO words. And, though I do secretly want to be able to tell people that I smacked a woman named Cricket, I will just pretend.
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
The Car Purse
If last Monday's shenanigans didn't give me enough of a reason to never drink again, certainly I have learned my lesson after last night's shenanigans.
We went to a bar, after having downed a few alcoholic beverages. I desperately wanted to go to the beach and decided that a) the bartender could tell me how to get there and b) I needed to walk into his kitchen in order to get him to tell me where the beach was. Finally I got the answer I was looking for and in my excitement I left my purse, which then got stolen. However I didn't realize this until after I walked past Yale and pressed the police alarm sending police cars wailing down the street. Not until after we drove for an hour in my car, running red lights, trying to find the beach did I realize my purse was missing. No, it was only when we got back to the apartment that I realized it was gone. My car purse, the one I got in Notting Hill, England.
This misfortune which shortly followed the "got paid 15 dollars for participating in a study and then got a 15 dollar ticket for parking while participating in the study" just sums up my life. My unfortunate life. This kind of thing just doesn't stop happening to me.
We went to a bar, after having downed a few alcoholic beverages. I desperately wanted to go to the beach and decided that a) the bartender could tell me how to get there and b) I needed to walk into his kitchen in order to get him to tell me where the beach was. Finally I got the answer I was looking for and in my excitement I left my purse, which then got stolen. However I didn't realize this until after I walked past Yale and pressed the police alarm sending police cars wailing down the street. Not until after we drove for an hour in my car, running red lights, trying to find the beach did I realize my purse was missing. No, it was only when we got back to the apartment that I realized it was gone. My car purse, the one I got in Notting Hill, England.
This misfortune which shortly followed the "got paid 15 dollars for participating in a study and then got a 15 dollar ticket for parking while participating in the study" just sums up my life. My unfortunate life. This kind of thing just doesn't stop happening to me.
Hobos Are People Too
So I have been watching Harper's Island recently; I just finished watching episode three. In this episode a girl, who was found hanged in the previous episode, is being given an autopsy and they find her eyes blood red. This scene particularly freaked me out. I think it was the combination on the pale skin and red eyes that got to me. It reminded me of Regan from The Exorcist. As I believe I have mentioned before I am terrified of The Exorcist and Regan. That time she chased me in a haunted house....((shudder))..... Needless to say I left for rehearsal today a little shaky.
Funny that today at rehearsal I should play M.A.S.H. with a fellow comrade around the age of 9. My categories to her M.A.S.H. game were along the lines of: Honeymoon, Car, Pets, Color of Wedding Dress, etc...typical M.A.S.H. categories. She asks if she can do M.A.S.H. for me and I say yes of course. She asks what examples of categories are and I tell her ya know Honeymoon, # of kids, Husband's name, etc...and she comes up with the following categories for me: Material of gravestone, material of coffin (which turned out to be newspaper), age of death, and season of funeral. Oh and I will marry a hobo. I ask her why her categories were so morbid and she told me it was because I am older than her. 21 and one foot in the grave.
After rehearsal I go onto campus to write my rehearsal report because my computer is dead due to "lack of power cord" syndrome. Campus is dead in summer and especially at night. I have to go the creepy dark back way to get to the computer lab I am headed for because of construction. I finally get to the building. I go to the bathroom and I glance at myself in the mirror and almost scream out loud because my eye is all red and the first thing I think to myself is that John Wakefield from Harper's Island is after me. After a deep breath I realize my contact must just have been bothering me or something. But I am concerned about how freaked out I was, maybe I should find myself a Harper's Island buddy.
Funny that today at rehearsal I should play M.A.S.H. with a fellow comrade around the age of 9. My categories to her M.A.S.H. game were along the lines of: Honeymoon, Car, Pets, Color of Wedding Dress, etc...typical M.A.S.H. categories. She asks if she can do M.A.S.H. for me and I say yes of course. She asks what examples of categories are and I tell her ya know Honeymoon, # of kids, Husband's name, etc...and she comes up with the following categories for me: Material of gravestone, material of coffin (which turned out to be newspaper), age of death, and season of funeral. Oh and I will marry a hobo. I ask her why her categories were so morbid and she told me it was because I am older than her. 21 and one foot in the grave.
After rehearsal I go onto campus to write my rehearsal report because my computer is dead due to "lack of power cord" syndrome. Campus is dead in summer and especially at night. I have to go the creepy dark back way to get to the computer lab I am headed for because of construction. I finally get to the building. I go to the bathroom and I glance at myself in the mirror and almost scream out loud because my eye is all red and the first thing I think to myself is that John Wakefield from Harper's Island is after me. After a deep breath I realize my contact must just have been bothering me or something. But I am concerned about how freaked out I was, maybe I should find myself a Harper's Island buddy.
Mutant Squirrel
Alright so I go to put gas in my car and I only have cash so I go to prepay. I walk in and tell the cashier that I'm the red car on pump number 6 and I hand him 5 dollars...to which he responds: "uh....oh, wait, do you want to prepay?" No, no I don't want to prepay, I just came in here and I really wanted to tell someone that I have a red car that is parked by pump number 6 and I was SO grateful that you listened to me that I decided that you deserved 5 dollars.
On a lighter note, as I left work today, a squirrel ran past and on second glance I stopped dead in my tracks for the squirrel looked like a mutant. It had a huge, tumor-like jaw and a second tale. This had also captured the attention of a guy passing by. We just looked at each other and then I asked him if he thought the squirrel was a mutant. He said he thought the squirrel had a dead baby squirrel in its mouth. Either way, I'm disturbed. The squirrel scenario up in State College is freaky. I sometimes think Jess Scuito was onto something when she would tell everyone that squirrels were plotting our demise and were going to take over the world, that they were saving up pennies and all that. This was clearly the logical explanation as to why a squirrel once grabbed her quarter that was on a nearby table. They're saving up!
On a lighter note, as I left work today, a squirrel ran past and on second glance I stopped dead in my tracks for the squirrel looked like a mutant. It had a huge, tumor-like jaw and a second tale. This had also captured the attention of a guy passing by. We just looked at each other and then I asked him if he thought the squirrel was a mutant. He said he thought the squirrel had a dead baby squirrel in its mouth. Either way, I'm disturbed. The squirrel scenario up in State College is freaky. I sometimes think Jess Scuito was onto something when she would tell everyone that squirrels were plotting our demise and were going to take over the world, that they were saving up pennies and all that. This was clearly the logical explanation as to why a squirrel once grabbed her quarter that was on a nearby table. They're saving up!
Why Are There BEARS in Your Car??
Let me preface this note by saying I think I deserve a bit of slack in this situation and here's why.
Let's say you were to spend endless hours driving a car in which the people navigating were constantly shouting things like "Go left! No! Right! Right! Follow the finger!! Follow the finger!!!" and " Make a U-Turn!" "Why did you make a U-Turn?" and "I just saw my life flash before my eyes!" Trust me you would be just as frazzled and constantly confused as I was. Now this isn't an excuse. I know, I know, perhaps just as John tells me everyday, I am actually a blonde.
That being said, here's what happened. So we're driving up to the Canadian border, just minutes away from the states, 'Party in the USA' is all cued up on the radio, when I turn into border patrol and kind of miss the sign that says "Wait here until clear" (those Canadians love to rhyme, eh?) Well I stop half way between "Wait here until clear" and a stop sign. I figure instead of looking like an idiot and reversing, I'll just wait where I am and "hope I made the right decision." Wrong Decision. An angry Canadian patrol man, (we'll from now on refer to him as 'Gaston' at the suggestion of one of my asm's after I asked her what an intimidating sounding man's name was), Gaston comes out of the patrol booth and knocks on my window and half demands/half yells "Reverse and read the sign." So I quiver and reverse back to the sign. "Wait here until clear." Well now it's all clear, but now I'm absolutely terrified of the patrol man, Gaston. I inch the car up to the stop sign and I wait. I wait at the stop sign for a while because I'm not sure how long I'm supposed to wait and I don't want to be yelled at again, because now I'm scared. Gaston steps out of his booth again and knocks on my window and half says/half yells "it says 'Stop' not 'Park'." "Oh dear God" I'm thinking. So I pull up to the patrol window and now I'm just really nervous and when I'm nervous I laugh and say really dumb things so now I'm afraid I'm going to say dumb things and that makes me even more nervous even though we have absolutely nothing to hide except for my bad driving skills. Gaston takes our passports and starts barking questions at us. "Where are you from?!" "Where do you live?!" "How do you know each other?!" "Why is there an old man in your car?!?" Then he tells me to pop the trunk and I do. Then he yells "Why do you have BEARS in the back of your car?!" He is referring to the stuffed animal bears in the back of my car to which I respond "They're from the zoo! They all have names! My Dad used to buy them for us as kids" I ramble on and on about the bears and I start listing off the names which prompts Gaston to go back into his booth and slide the heavy metal door closed. I guess he didn't care to hear the tiger's name, Tina or the black bear, Cody.
Gaston comes out of the booth and tells me to park. And then he tells me instead to turn the car back on and follow the man in front of me. So I follow the man with my car and we all get out of the car and into the border patrol station. I turn to my friends and say "we're a random search!" to which one of them responds "No Katie, they think we're on drugs because you suck at driving."
Then one of the border patrol men inside the station yells something that sounds like "I need the tallest person over here." So I say "the tallest?" And he says "No, I need the leader of the group, is that you? You're the shortest!" Yes sir, thank you for pointing out the obvious. I'm short. Not only do Canadians rhyme, but they are sharp as a tack.
Anyway this man asks me a million questions just like Gaston. "Where are you from?" "Whats your major?" "Why is that your major?" (Good question, I respond) "What are you youngin's doing traveling around with an old guy?" (We're all the same age.) Eventually he goes "alright you guys can leave."
We all get into the car and we are dead silent. We take a few breaths and then we finally drive over into the states. It's finally time to play some 'Party in the USA.'
Let's say you were to spend endless hours driving a car in which the people navigating were constantly shouting things like "Go left! No! Right! Right! Follow the finger!! Follow the finger!!!" and " Make a U-Turn!" "Why did you make a U-Turn?" and "I just saw my life flash before my eyes!" Trust me you would be just as frazzled and constantly confused as I was. Now this isn't an excuse. I know, I know, perhaps just as John tells me everyday, I am actually a blonde.
That being said, here's what happened. So we're driving up to the Canadian border, just minutes away from the states, 'Party in the USA' is all cued up on the radio, when I turn into border patrol and kind of miss the sign that says "Wait here until clear" (those Canadians love to rhyme, eh?) Well I stop half way between "Wait here until clear" and a stop sign. I figure instead of looking like an idiot and reversing, I'll just wait where I am and "hope I made the right decision." Wrong Decision. An angry Canadian patrol man, (we'll from now on refer to him as 'Gaston' at the suggestion of one of my asm's after I asked her what an intimidating sounding man's name was), Gaston comes out of the patrol booth and knocks on my window and half demands/half yells "Reverse and read the sign." So I quiver and reverse back to the sign. "Wait here until clear." Well now it's all clear, but now I'm absolutely terrified of the patrol man, Gaston. I inch the car up to the stop sign and I wait. I wait at the stop sign for a while because I'm not sure how long I'm supposed to wait and I don't want to be yelled at again, because now I'm scared. Gaston steps out of his booth again and knocks on my window and half says/half yells "it says 'Stop' not 'Park'." "Oh dear God" I'm thinking. So I pull up to the patrol window and now I'm just really nervous and when I'm nervous I laugh and say really dumb things so now I'm afraid I'm going to say dumb things and that makes me even more nervous even though we have absolutely nothing to hide except for my bad driving skills. Gaston takes our passports and starts barking questions at us. "Where are you from?!" "Where do you live?!" "How do you know each other?!" "Why is there an old man in your car?!?" Then he tells me to pop the trunk and I do. Then he yells "Why do you have BEARS in the back of your car?!" He is referring to the stuffed animal bears in the back of my car to which I respond "They're from the zoo! They all have names! My Dad used to buy them for us as kids" I ramble on and on about the bears and I start listing off the names which prompts Gaston to go back into his booth and slide the heavy metal door closed. I guess he didn't care to hear the tiger's name, Tina or the black bear, Cody.
Gaston comes out of the booth and tells me to park. And then he tells me instead to turn the car back on and follow the man in front of me. So I follow the man with my car and we all get out of the car and into the border patrol station. I turn to my friends and say "we're a random search!" to which one of them responds "No Katie, they think we're on drugs because you suck at driving."
Then one of the border patrol men inside the station yells something that sounds like "I need the tallest person over here." So I say "the tallest?" And he says "No, I need the leader of the group, is that you? You're the shortest!" Yes sir, thank you for pointing out the obvious. I'm short. Not only do Canadians rhyme, but they are sharp as a tack.
Anyway this man asks me a million questions just like Gaston. "Where are you from?" "Whats your major?" "Why is that your major?" (Good question, I respond) "What are you youngin's doing traveling around with an old guy?" (We're all the same age.) Eventually he goes "alright you guys can leave."
We all get into the car and we are dead silent. We take a few breaths and then we finally drive over into the states. It's finally time to play some 'Party in the USA.'
Freak on a Leash
I have come to a realization about something I did last night and I am now analyzing the events leading up to that point.
It begins when I am in Barcelona and I meet a group of British guys. Long story short I end up in a bar with them and I end up talking to this guy John for a while. We are leaving the bar, and I notice there are five or six half empty bottles of beer on the self. Now, being as frugal with money as I have been lately, I think to myself, "Wow! I can't believe all those beers are going to go to waste! Someone should drink them!" Not two seconds later John turns to the bar, grabs a half empty beer, exclaims "can't let these go to waste!" and drinks them down. And then we leave the bar. And that's when I knew we were kindred spirits and I'm madly in love. Of course I'll never see John again in my entire life. But I know he's out there, drinking random peoples beers in bars because he knows that good beer shouldn't go to waste, I mean we're living in a recession!
And then I'm in the bar last night. I don't buy myself a drink because I am absolutely broke. But I'm drinking some out of my friend's beer pitchers. I score a seat at the bar and I notice there is a pitcher with about a fourth of beer left in it. It is going to go to waste. I think of John briefly, and then I drink it. And then I spot another pitcher with leftover beer in it and I drink that one too.
Now today I wake up and I recall these events. And now I think to myself all the things that could have been in those pitchers. Like herpes. Ew. But you know, I'm alive, and hey, free beer, or as it has been called in a book I'm reading: liquid bread. Hey, desperate times call for desperate measures.
It begins when I am in Barcelona and I meet a group of British guys. Long story short I end up in a bar with them and I end up talking to this guy John for a while. We are leaving the bar, and I notice there are five or six half empty bottles of beer on the self. Now, being as frugal with money as I have been lately, I think to myself, "Wow! I can't believe all those beers are going to go to waste! Someone should drink them!" Not two seconds later John turns to the bar, grabs a half empty beer, exclaims "can't let these go to waste!" and drinks them down. And then we leave the bar. And that's when I knew we were kindred spirits and I'm madly in love. Of course I'll never see John again in my entire life. But I know he's out there, drinking random peoples beers in bars because he knows that good beer shouldn't go to waste, I mean we're living in a recession!
And then I'm in the bar last night. I don't buy myself a drink because I am absolutely broke. But I'm drinking some out of my friend's beer pitchers. I score a seat at the bar and I notice there is a pitcher with about a fourth of beer left in it. It is going to go to waste. I think of John briefly, and then I drink it. And then I spot another pitcher with leftover beer in it and I drink that one too.
Now today I wake up and I recall these events. And now I think to myself all the things that could have been in those pitchers. Like herpes. Ew. But you know, I'm alive, and hey, free beer, or as it has been called in a book I'm reading: liquid bread. Hey, desperate times call for desperate measures.
It's Oh So Quiet
So there is a bar downtown State College I like to go to called Gingerbreadman. Every Wednesday they do trivia and karaoke which means that basically every Wednesday the bar is calling out "Katieeeee, come to meeeeee, it doesn't matter that you have work tomorrow, I love youuuu" and I can't resist sweet talk so I go.
A few Wednesdays ago a group of cool people (you know who you are) went to G-mans as we like to call it and we played trivia. Now mad people cheat at trivia, people use their phone to do internet searches for answers, text their friends, etc...but we have refused to cheat. Refused. The winners of trivia get gift-cards to the restaurant, aka, free drinks. A few Wednesday's ago, we won third place. Or so we were told. I was SUPER excited because I was incredibly broke at this point and the prospect of getting just one free drink was elating. So I run up to the trivia guy (Trivia Chuck, we're FB friends) and I was like, "WE WON!!!!" and then this guy came up in front of me and demanded that he should have gotten third place and that Trivia Chuck added the numbers wrong. But he didn't! We won third place, without cheating! Still, the group that claimed they had third place over us got the third place prize, we were completely jipped. We won nothing.... It was a very sad time for the team.
Today, I decide to go to G-man's again. I was the first one there so I had to come up with a team name. Our team names was "Bitch-ass-bitch hoes." I was alone for the first round and got two of the three questions wrong (Fail!!) and I thought for sure it was over. We kept playing, blah blah blah, and at the end we ended up in 6th place. Then, we had the final question. We could wager up to 15 points. The question was "what do Bjork, Anaus Nin, (someone), (someone else) and (someone else) have in common." I said, "well Bjork has those dots over the 'o' in her name..." To which Nate responded "They all have umlats in their names" We bet all of our points, "balls to the walls" as I like to say. We had no absolute confidence that this answer was correct but we went with it. And we won. We won. WE WON TRIVIA! Big deal. To quote Trivia Chuck "The first place prize goes to the "Bitch-ass-bitch hoes." YASSSS!!!!! This made up for the fact that we were jipped out of third place last time.
To conclude, WE WON TRIVIA!!!!!! (without cheating). Yeyyahhhhh
A few Wednesdays ago a group of cool people (you know who you are) went to G-mans as we like to call it and we played trivia. Now mad people cheat at trivia, people use their phone to do internet searches for answers, text their friends, etc...but we have refused to cheat. Refused. The winners of trivia get gift-cards to the restaurant, aka, free drinks. A few Wednesday's ago, we won third place. Or so we were told. I was SUPER excited because I was incredibly broke at this point and the prospect of getting just one free drink was elating. So I run up to the trivia guy (Trivia Chuck, we're FB friends) and I was like, "WE WON!!!!" and then this guy came up in front of me and demanded that he should have gotten third place and that Trivia Chuck added the numbers wrong. But he didn't! We won third place, without cheating! Still, the group that claimed they had third place over us got the third place prize, we were completely jipped. We won nothing.... It was a very sad time for the team.
Today, I decide to go to G-man's again. I was the first one there so I had to come up with a team name. Our team names was "Bitch-ass-bitch hoes." I was alone for the first round and got two of the three questions wrong (Fail!!) and I thought for sure it was over. We kept playing, blah blah blah, and at the end we ended up in 6th place. Then, we had the final question. We could wager up to 15 points. The question was "what do Bjork, Anaus Nin, (someone), (someone else) and (someone else) have in common." I said, "well Bjork has those dots over the 'o' in her name..." To which Nate responded "They all have umlats in their names" We bet all of our points, "balls to the walls" as I like to say. We had no absolute confidence that this answer was correct but we went with it. And we won. We won. WE WON TRIVIA! Big deal. To quote Trivia Chuck "The first place prize goes to the "Bitch-ass-bitch hoes." YASSSS!!!!! This made up for the fact that we were jipped out of third place last time.
To conclude, WE WON TRIVIA!!!!!! (without cheating). Yeyyahhhhh
This is NOT Happening
So I took a little trip to London. I am pretty broke but the flight was ridiculously cheap and so was my hostel. I figured that I should Google 'free stuff to do in London' and one of the sights offered some free cabaret, which I am all about.
So the first night I go searching for this bar where this cabaret act supposedly is and I know I am on the right street but I can't find the place and no one seems to have ever heard of it which probably isn't a good sign. Anyway I eventually find this guy who tells me where it is, and it happens to be down this little dark alley that I never would have found. I go in and a drag queen is hosting this quiz on musicals. I think to myself, "wow I am SO going to win this."
So these two guys offer for me to sit with them because I am all alone and the host started calling me "match girl" because I was alone and I still don't understand the reference. Match girl? Anyone? Who knows.
The guys I sat with were like 'How are you here?? How did you find this place? This is your first night in London and this is where you are?? I don't understand." To which I responded, "trust me, I just would end up here, I, just, would."
Anyway, so the host is going through the questions and I am just striking out entirely. One of the questions was she played a song without lyrics and you had to name the show. The song she played everyone in the bar knew and they were all singing along and the host said "if you don't know this song, you don't know anything." I had NO idea what the song was. The answer she later told us was Chess. When she said this I stood up, threw my pen on the floor and and yelled "That WOULD be Chess, that is just SOOO English." and then everyone just stared at me and it was really awkward.....
Meanwhile I was talking to these guys about how I wanted to go see a show and I told them I really wanted to see Blood Brothers because a) I love Blood Brothers and b) Mel. B. from the Spice Girls is in it. And these guys were like "No don't go see Blood Brothers! No! Trust us, go see Priscilla Queen of the Desert," which I had never heard of. But these guys got every question on the quiz right so I figured I should trust their opinion and go see Priscilla Queen of the Desert which I kept mistakenly calling Priscilla Queen of the Damned. I had no idea what I was in for. As I found out Priscilla Queen of the Desert is pretty much a drag show with a budget. And the entire time I watched the show I was thinking to myself "I would. I would be here." Who else would mistakenly end up paying money to see a drag show on Broadway when they could have seen so many things Blood Brothers, Calender Girls, The Lion King, etc... never trust a mo you meet in a drag bar to tell you which show to go see. The best part of Priscilla, and I did have a lot of fun at the show (I even got pulled to dance onstage), but the best part was the MacArthur Park melody where people dressed as cakes with umbrellas. No Lie. I almost died of laughter in the audience.
But yes. I had a really fun Tuesday night and everything was great until my return flight was delayed by 6 hours because my plane got struck by lightning. Now listen, a few weeks ago I flew to Sweden and a man died on my plane while we were up in the air. I was only a few rows behind as I watched a nurse attempt to resuscitate him. I was watching the whole thing in horror, wide eyed. When he died one of the nurses looked over at me and just shook her head and I knew. We had an emergency landing and were delayed for 4 hours. When I got to Sweden I had to wait outside in the cold from 2am to 530am until the buses started running again to bring me where I needed to go. I really didn't think I could have a worse flight delay/experience than that. And then on Wednesday my plane got struck by lightning and there was a 6 hour delay. You know how slim the chances are for lightning to strike objects? I mean come on! COME ON. I had to be somewhere Wednesday night and it was essential that everything ran on time. ESSENTIAL. In fact, most of my trip in London was spent worrying about my return flight and just hoping that everything would run smoothly and I had to convince myself that everything would be fine. And of course something went wrong. As soon I got to the gate they announced that lightning struck and it would 'only be 10 minutes' but I knew. I knew, and I just stood there going "This is NOT happening." In retrospect I don't know why I was so surprised. Bad luck just finds me. Terrible luck. Sometimes I wonder who I pissed off...
So the first night I go searching for this bar where this cabaret act supposedly is and I know I am on the right street but I can't find the place and no one seems to have ever heard of it which probably isn't a good sign. Anyway I eventually find this guy who tells me where it is, and it happens to be down this little dark alley that I never would have found. I go in and a drag queen is hosting this quiz on musicals. I think to myself, "wow I am SO going to win this."
So these two guys offer for me to sit with them because I am all alone and the host started calling me "match girl" because I was alone and I still don't understand the reference. Match girl? Anyone? Who knows.
The guys I sat with were like 'How are you here?? How did you find this place? This is your first night in London and this is where you are?? I don't understand." To which I responded, "trust me, I just would end up here, I, just, would."
Anyway, so the host is going through the questions and I am just striking out entirely. One of the questions was she played a song without lyrics and you had to name the show. The song she played everyone in the bar knew and they were all singing along and the host said "if you don't know this song, you don't know anything." I had NO idea what the song was. The answer she later told us was Chess. When she said this I stood up, threw my pen on the floor and and yelled "That WOULD be Chess, that is just SOOO English." and then everyone just stared at me and it was really awkward.....
Meanwhile I was talking to these guys about how I wanted to go see a show and I told them I really wanted to see Blood Brothers because a) I love Blood Brothers and b) Mel. B. from the Spice Girls is in it. And these guys were like "No don't go see Blood Brothers! No! Trust us, go see Priscilla Queen of the Desert," which I had never heard of. But these guys got every question on the quiz right so I figured I should trust their opinion and go see Priscilla Queen of the Desert which I kept mistakenly calling Priscilla Queen of the Damned. I had no idea what I was in for. As I found out Priscilla Queen of the Desert is pretty much a drag show with a budget. And the entire time I watched the show I was thinking to myself "I would. I would be here." Who else would mistakenly end up paying money to see a drag show on Broadway when they could have seen so many things Blood Brothers, Calender Girls, The Lion King, etc... never trust a mo you meet in a drag bar to tell you which show to go see. The best part of Priscilla, and I did have a lot of fun at the show (I even got pulled to dance onstage), but the best part was the MacArthur Park melody where people dressed as cakes with umbrellas. No Lie. I almost died of laughter in the audience.
But yes. I had a really fun Tuesday night and everything was great until my return flight was delayed by 6 hours because my plane got struck by lightning. Now listen, a few weeks ago I flew to Sweden and a man died on my plane while we were up in the air. I was only a few rows behind as I watched a nurse attempt to resuscitate him. I was watching the whole thing in horror, wide eyed. When he died one of the nurses looked over at me and just shook her head and I knew. We had an emergency landing and were delayed for 4 hours. When I got to Sweden I had to wait outside in the cold from 2am to 530am until the buses started running again to bring me where I needed to go. I really didn't think I could have a worse flight delay/experience than that. And then on Wednesday my plane got struck by lightning and there was a 6 hour delay. You know how slim the chances are for lightning to strike objects? I mean come on! COME ON. I had to be somewhere Wednesday night and it was essential that everything ran on time. ESSENTIAL. In fact, most of my trip in London was spent worrying about my return flight and just hoping that everything would run smoothly and I had to convince myself that everything would be fine. And of course something went wrong. As soon I got to the gate they announced that lightning struck and it would 'only be 10 minutes' but I knew. I knew, and I just stood there going "This is NOT happening." In retrospect I don't know why I was so surprised. Bad luck just finds me. Terrible luck. Sometimes I wonder who I pissed off...
Zombie Bunnies
Today I am on my way to go do some touristy thing when I pass a tapas bar and realize I am hungry and should eat something. There is a picture board of all the delicious tapas they serve and one of them is asparagus with dipping sauce and I think to myself "that sounds really good." So I sit down and get a menu. The menu is only in Catalan. So I am trying to read the menu and figure out which word means asparagus. I sit there for 5 minutes trying to figure it out meanwhile I can feel the waitress's eyes on me waiting for me to look up and signal that I am ready to order. I can't figure out which Catalan word is asparagus and the waitress is getting antsy so I figure I'll just take a guess and if its not what I meant to order, whats the worst that could happen? I mean it's not like I'm gonna accidentally order squid or anything like that. So I point to the thing that says "sivia a la plancha" figuring that "plancha" must be somewhat related to the word "plant" and I can eat about virtually any plant. I feel pretty safe with my decision. I figure whatever I order, I can eat it. I'm not picky.
Eventually I am served my dish and what did I order? Squid. I ordered Squid. To eat. I dissected a squid in 5th grade once, we took out its ink and used it like a pen to write our names. I didn't know you could eat squid. But you can and there is was sitting in front of me, tentacles and all. I had no choice. I ate the squid.
I have to stop being so adventurous when it comes to food. But at least I didn't order rabbit by mistake. I have already accidentally killed two rabbits in my life, if I had to eat a rabbit I would probably sob between bites. Poor Hester and Woody.
Eventually I am served my dish and what did I order? Squid. I ordered Squid. To eat. I dissected a squid in 5th grade once, we took out its ink and used it like a pen to write our names. I didn't know you could eat squid. But you can and there is was sitting in front of me, tentacles and all. I had no choice. I ate the squid.
I have to stop being so adventurous when it comes to food. But at least I didn't order rabbit by mistake. I have already accidentally killed two rabbits in my life, if I had to eat a rabbit I would probably sob between bites. Poor Hester and Woody.
El Sur de Francia
So I get on the bus to El Sur De Francia and I sit in the back because I assume that I will not really know anyone on the trip. Worst decision ever because that's apparently where all the dumb people sit. No, that's mean. Not the dumb people, the, ummm, loud people. So I get back there and can’t help but overhear these girls talking about their night and the one girl goes “god whoever my roommate is I hope she puts her stuff in the room and then leaves for the rest of the night cuz I need my space” blah blah and I’m like “oh god I hope she’s not my roommate.” There are 50 other people on the bus so I figure the chances are rather slim. Anyway, eventually they quiet down and I can sleep/whatever. When we arrive in France we get assigned our roommate. And you guessed it, I’m roomed with the girl that was like “god whoever my roommate is…” because that just would happen to me.
We go visit this castle in Caracassone. The tour was very nice but the highlight of the day was when the French tour guide asked me what New York used to be called before it was called New York. I was like “I know this!” and then I proceeded to quote They Might Be Giants in order to recall the answer. He didn’t know what was happening. I win at life.
That night we find this sweet outdoor wine festival happening in the town we were staying in. There was this really cool DJ who was playing the cheesy 80’s music I love: Prince, MJ, Blondie. At one point the DJ holds up a bottle of Vodka and offers it to the crowd so I wgo up there and he gives me the entire bottle of Vodka and a chaser and then asks us if we’re Americans (the intense excitement over free alcohol must give it away).
Next day, I went to lunch with a few friends and we were having trouble communicating with the waiter, he was trying to explain to us the food of the day but he didn’t know the word for sheep so he goes “mom baaaaaaa, has baby baaaaaaaaa” in attempt to tell us that the item De Jour was sheep veal. We turn to the people sitting next to us to see if they can clarify some other questionable items on the menu. They go “we don’t speak French we’re from England, we communicate in sign language” and then proceed to flap there arms like chickens so show us how they order chicken.
Later that evening we take a boat ride. We are sitting in the boat and there is a bridge that we can’t fit under because it doesn’t lift up and I don’t understand how we are going to get under the bridge. I sarcastically say “what are we going to drain all the water or something and magically fit under the bridge?” That's exactly what happened. Apparently it’s called “Controlled Drainage.” Who knew?
PS. Do I excessively use quotation marks?
Next day, Kassidy and I go into a shop and she buys a scarf, which gets me thinking that I miss knitting. So I find this wool shop and decide to buy some yarn and some needles. The shop lady is rapidly speaking French to me and I say “Pardona, Hablo Ingles o Espanol” but this doesn’t stop her and neither does my incessant shoulder shrugging. I manage to point to needles and say “trois” and she understood I was asking for size three needles and handed them to me. I walk into the room with all of the yarn and she follows me and is talking to me really fast in French and before I even begin to look around the room she grabs my arm and shows me this pink-purply yarn and tells me I need three balls of the yarn then brings be to the counter takes away my size three needles and gives me size 6 needles and then rings me up. I had no idea what was happening the entire time. I went in there and she had made every single decision for me and I couldn’t even argue because I can’t speak French. It was just like “uhh, ok I guess, I…uhh, ok, uhh, sure, yeah, umm...ok.” But yarn is yarn and needles are needles,,,I guess.
In the end I think France is so beautiful but I don’t foresee myself going back without someone I know who can speak fluent French because I am too uncomfortable with the language. And the French are offended if you don't speak their language. Oh well.
We go visit this castle in Caracassone. The tour was very nice but the highlight of the day was when the French tour guide asked me what New York used to be called before it was called New York. I was like “I know this!” and then I proceeded to quote They Might Be Giants in order to recall the answer. He didn’t know what was happening. I win at life.
That night we find this sweet outdoor wine festival happening in the town we were staying in. There was this really cool DJ who was playing the cheesy 80’s music I love: Prince, MJ, Blondie. At one point the DJ holds up a bottle of Vodka and offers it to the crowd so I wgo up there and he gives me the entire bottle of Vodka and a chaser and then asks us if we’re Americans (the intense excitement over free alcohol must give it away).
Next day, I went to lunch with a few friends and we were having trouble communicating with the waiter, he was trying to explain to us the food of the day but he didn’t know the word for sheep so he goes “mom baaaaaaa, has baby baaaaaaaaa” in attempt to tell us that the item De Jour was sheep veal. We turn to the people sitting next to us to see if they can clarify some other questionable items on the menu. They go “we don’t speak French we’re from England, we communicate in sign language” and then proceed to flap there arms like chickens so show us how they order chicken.
Later that evening we take a boat ride. We are sitting in the boat and there is a bridge that we can’t fit under because it doesn’t lift up and I don’t understand how we are going to get under the bridge. I sarcastically say “what are we going to drain all the water or something and magically fit under the bridge?” That's exactly what happened. Apparently it’s called “Controlled Drainage.” Who knew?
PS. Do I excessively use quotation marks?
Next day, Kassidy and I go into a shop and she buys a scarf, which gets me thinking that I miss knitting. So I find this wool shop and decide to buy some yarn and some needles. The shop lady is rapidly speaking French to me and I say “Pardona, Hablo Ingles o Espanol” but this doesn’t stop her and neither does my incessant shoulder shrugging. I manage to point to needles and say “trois” and she understood I was asking for size three needles and handed them to me. I walk into the room with all of the yarn and she follows me and is talking to me really fast in French and before I even begin to look around the room she grabs my arm and shows me this pink-purply yarn and tells me I need three balls of the yarn then brings be to the counter takes away my size three needles and gives me size 6 needles and then rings me up. I had no idea what was happening the entire time. I went in there and she had made every single decision for me and I couldn’t even argue because I can’t speak French. It was just like “uhh, ok I guess, I…uhh, ok, uhh, sure, yeah, umm...ok.” But yarn is yarn and needles are needles,,,I guess.
In the end I think France is so beautiful but I don’t foresee myself going back without someone I know who can speak fluent French because I am too uncomfortable with the language. And the French are offended if you don't speak their language. Oh well.
The Green Sidewalk
Ok so we went to Girona last weekend as a program. All the IES kids. I had my expensive camera with me and my coat.
They split us up into groups and my group took this tour of the city. After the tour we had an hour to ourselves before we had to meet up again. So I decided to walk around Girona and explore.
I´m walking down this street and I see a park, garden thing. I´m like "omg yes! I should walk through there that will be awesome." So I am walking on the road and there is a green sidewalk that I need to walk onto so that I can step over the bushes and get into the garden. (see green sidewalk above).
So I step onto the green sidewalk and all of the sudden I have no idea what is happening. All of the sudden I am completely underwater. I´m submerged in water. I swim to the top and realize that the sidewalk wasen´t a sidewalk at all, it was a moat. I fell into a moat.
So I climb out of the moat completely soaked, camera, coat and all. I am covered in green. Green plant stuff in my hair, mouth, all over my clothes, in my boots, socks, and later to find out in my bra, underwear, everywhere. I fell into a moat, a deep moat. I didn´t even touch the bottom when I fell in.
So of course I still had to meet my group so I´m now in the garden and I´m walking around and lo and behold the entrance to the garden was 20 feet away and I didn´t realize. So I´m walking back to meet my group and people are doing double-takes and completely staring at me because I was covering in green and I was soaking wet. I fell into a moat. It was so embarrassing. I was so sure that I was stepping onto pavement that for a few seconds when I was underwater and when I swam up from the water I didn't understand what had happened. It felt like the Twilight Zone or something. It was the best thing ever. I fell into a moat.
Carnivoreclubs.com Because The West Wasn't Won on Salad
So pretty much everyone in the IES program is the dumbest person I´ve ever met. Ok not everyone, but I´ve had too many run-ins with morons for it to be coincidence.
For example and this is a true story, this is a direct quote from class today:
Professor: "Has anyone heard of Hermeneutics?"
Bimbo: "Hermits?"
Professor: "Hermeneutics."
Did she really think the professor was asking us if we had ever heard of hermits? Really? I mean REALLY? Come on. Not that this class is the most intellectually challenging class, I mean the professor keeping putting the word ´science´ in air-quotes: "science," but still we do all attend college or "college" perhaps in her case.
And then my roommate was telling me about her Oceanography class and how when asked why they were in the class one girl responded "I´m here because I love going to the beach."
Because when it comes down to it marine scientists actually just like to go tanning.
For example and this is a true story, this is a direct quote from class today:
Professor: "Has anyone heard of Hermeneutics?"
Bimbo: "Hermits?"
Professor: "Hermeneutics."
Did she really think the professor was asking us if we had ever heard of hermits? Really? I mean REALLY? Come on. Not that this class is the most intellectually challenging class, I mean the professor keeping putting the word ´science´ in air-quotes: "science," but still we do all attend college or "college" perhaps in her case.
And then my roommate was telling me about her Oceanography class and how when asked why they were in the class one girl responded "I´m here because I love going to the beach."
Because when it comes down to it marine scientists actually just like to go tanning.
Chuck Norris is for Catalan Independance
A culture shock I wasn't prepared for:
We were talking at dinner about going to Sitges. At dinner we speak in Spanish porque Maria no habla ingles. Maria, an old catholic woman, said there were a lot of gay people at the beach to which my idiotic response was "me gusta!" Maria goes "Siiiiiii????? Queeeeee?????" Now I don't know much Spanish so I'm trying to explain and Maria is going on and on "no me gusta los homosexuales" "Man and woman have babies" blah, blah, blah. And now she thinks I'm a lesbian but I have no idea how to explain myself so I keep trying to say that certain guys on TV are "guapo" (hot/attractive) and stuff. I don't know what she thinks. I am so dumb. My roommate tried to help me out but I'm unsure of what Maria thinks of me at this point. It's pretty funny in retrospect.
Maria is the most dramatic person I have ever met. Yesterday Lauren and I went to Sitges and we told Maria and she said "you are going to miss dinner." We said no we'll definitely be back by 8:30, it was 2 at the time, and she goes "Imposible!". We were back by 7:15. Maria, Maria, Maria.
Anyway we were talking bout guapo hombres today (George Clooney is a favorite) and somehow I brought up the fact that I know Karate. Maria said "Si? A Chuck Norris!" But we couldn't understand her and had to figure out that she was saying Chuck Norris. Hahaha. Chuck Norris in Espana. Chuck Norris I cannot escape thee.
We were talking at dinner about going to Sitges. At dinner we speak in Spanish porque Maria no habla ingles. Maria, an old catholic woman, said there were a lot of gay people at the beach to which my idiotic response was "me gusta!" Maria goes "Siiiiiii????? Queeeeee?????" Now I don't know much Spanish so I'm trying to explain and Maria is going on and on "no me gusta los homosexuales" "Man and woman have babies" blah, blah, blah. And now she thinks I'm a lesbian but I have no idea how to explain myself so I keep trying to say that certain guys on TV are "guapo" (hot/attractive) and stuff. I don't know what she thinks. I am so dumb. My roommate tried to help me out but I'm unsure of what Maria thinks of me at this point. It's pretty funny in retrospect.
Maria is the most dramatic person I have ever met. Yesterday Lauren and I went to Sitges and we told Maria and she said "you are going to miss dinner." We said no we'll definitely be back by 8:30, it was 2 at the time, and she goes "Imposible!". We were back by 7:15. Maria, Maria, Maria.
Anyway we were talking bout guapo hombres today (George Clooney is a favorite) and somehow I brought up the fact that I know Karate. Maria said "Si? A Chuck Norris!" But we couldn't understand her and had to figure out that she was saying Chuck Norris. Hahaha. Chuck Norris in Espana. Chuck Norris I cannot escape thee.
Barcelona!
So I flew out of Airlingus which I was convinced didn't exist because noone had ever heard of it. But it did luckily. When I got the JFK and sat down at my gate, I looked around and noticed this girl sitting across from me who looked very familiar. I figured that it couldn't be who I thought it was. What are the chances I'd know someone flying to Dublin out of JFK at 10 pm? But when I saw the book she was reading I knew it was her. I'm not going to name any names but her initials are...no just kidding. I had no desire to talk to her as I was never a big fan of her in high school. Then I noticed someone else in the same gate who used to work at Danbury High School. Wierd.
So anyway I get on the plane and this cute little old Irish woman sits next to me. She is from 200 miles outside of Dublin and she visited the states to go shopping in New York City because "everything in New York City is so cheap!" Note to self: Never go shopping in Ireland.
Anyway I didn't think the ten hour layover in Dublin would be so bad. I had a Guinness at one of the many bars in the airport because I had never had a Guinness before. And it was so embarrassing. I go up to the bar and don't make fun of me but I go "how much is a beer?" and the bartender says "what kind?" and I said "Guinness" and he said that Guinness was a Stout and I felt so dumb.
The layover wasn't that bad but what makes me so mad is when people get on the Superman walkways and just stand there. Um HELLO. The whole point of the Superman walkway is that when you walk on it you go really fast and if you put your arms up in front of you you look like Superman, but you go fast and thus get to where you need to go faster because everyone is supposed to be in a rush at the airport. You get on the Superman walkway and walk and you go really fast. If you go on it and stand there you go twice as slow as you would if you just walked. How lazy can you be? You were just sitting on a plane for 5 hours. Walk or get the hell off. The Superman walkways were not made for your lazy ass.
Grr. I get on the plane to Barcelona. There are not one, but two screaming children who scream for 3 hours. Seriously they were never not crying. I feel sympathetic. I know you have a baby on a plane you can't shut them up it's not your fault or their fault, but still. Oh my god. And it didn't help that the stewardess gives my seat away that I hand selected online and it is the best seat the plane had to offer, whatever, I don't care. So on the plane to Barcelona, I figure I should actually read the Get Set! guide that I was supposed to have read months ago. Now's the time! In the guide it says that most host mothers aren't very friendly and are kind of awkward and don't feel bad if they aren't very friendly. So I am a little dispirited but I figure we'd warm up to each other eventually.
I am like the last person in the program to arrive because my flight got in so late so I have to call an emergency number and a cab. The cab driver used to work at the U.S. consulate and that while New Yorkers are very very friendly, most people in Barcelona are "not so kind." I am interested to see if I find this to be true.
I get out of the cab and three people come running over to me. An old Spainsh lady is yelling at me "Ca-ta-rine! Ca-ta-rine!" and talking to me in espanol. "Mas tarde!". She kissed me on both cheeks and is wearing some crazy outfit. She is loud and inviting. She is CRAZY. I freakin' love it. She wears crazy clothes and is very...eccentric. Perfect match. And her cooking is amazing.
The best thing is that I've been here less than a day and I've been asked for directions three times. I look like a tourist. At one point I was walking around carrying a big leaf that I found on the ground. Tourist. I do not look like I know where I'm going.
Oh and one last thing. We went to get lunch at a cafe and I was trying to say "me too" as in I would have the same thing but I said "tiempo" instead of "tambien" so I accidentally said "the weather." Americana estupida.
So anyway I get on the plane and this cute little old Irish woman sits next to me. She is from 200 miles outside of Dublin and she visited the states to go shopping in New York City because "everything in New York City is so cheap!" Note to self: Never go shopping in Ireland.
Anyway I didn't think the ten hour layover in Dublin would be so bad. I had a Guinness at one of the many bars in the airport because I had never had a Guinness before. And it was so embarrassing. I go up to the bar and don't make fun of me but I go "how much is a beer?" and the bartender says "what kind?" and I said "Guinness" and he said that Guinness was a Stout and I felt so dumb.
The layover wasn't that bad but what makes me so mad is when people get on the Superman walkways and just stand there. Um HELLO. The whole point of the Superman walkway is that when you walk on it you go really fast and if you put your arms up in front of you you look like Superman, but you go fast and thus get to where you need to go faster because everyone is supposed to be in a rush at the airport. You get on the Superman walkway and walk and you go really fast. If you go on it and stand there you go twice as slow as you would if you just walked. How lazy can you be? You were just sitting on a plane for 5 hours. Walk or get the hell off. The Superman walkways were not made for your lazy ass.
Grr. I get on the plane to Barcelona. There are not one, but two screaming children who scream for 3 hours. Seriously they were never not crying. I feel sympathetic. I know you have a baby on a plane you can't shut them up it's not your fault or their fault, but still. Oh my god. And it didn't help that the stewardess gives my seat away that I hand selected online and it is the best seat the plane had to offer, whatever, I don't care. So on the plane to Barcelona, I figure I should actually read the Get Set! guide that I was supposed to have read months ago. Now's the time! In the guide it says that most host mothers aren't very friendly and are kind of awkward and don't feel bad if they aren't very friendly. So I am a little dispirited but I figure we'd warm up to each other eventually.
I am like the last person in the program to arrive because my flight got in so late so I have to call an emergency number and a cab. The cab driver used to work at the U.S. consulate and that while New Yorkers are very very friendly, most people in Barcelona are "not so kind." I am interested to see if I find this to be true.
I get out of the cab and three people come running over to me. An old Spainsh lady is yelling at me "Ca-ta-rine! Ca-ta-rine!" and talking to me in espanol. "Mas tarde!". She kissed me on both cheeks and is wearing some crazy outfit. She is loud and inviting. She is CRAZY. I freakin' love it. She wears crazy clothes and is very...eccentric. Perfect match. And her cooking is amazing.
The best thing is that I've been here less than a day and I've been asked for directions three times. I look like a tourist. At one point I was walking around carrying a big leaf that I found on the ground. Tourist. I do not look like I know where I'm going.
Oh and one last thing. We went to get lunch at a cafe and I was trying to say "me too" as in I would have the same thing but I said "tiempo" instead of "tambien" so I accidentally said "the weather." Americana estupida.
Long Island All-Nighter Part 1
1) I heard The Pretenders in the park on Monday. I say heard because I didn't see them at all. I opted to sit outside of the seating area and listen to the concert for free, although I wish I had paid and gone in. I had fun. However I must say the best part of the concert was the opening band "Cat Power." That's right, "Cat Power." Because I couldn't see the stage, all I could picture the whole time "Cat Power" was onstage was cats playing various instruments and more cats on stage swaying to the music. CAT POWER!! Creepy.
So later on, whilst climbing rocks in heels (I amaze myself) I find myself sitting next to this woman who seems harmless enough. She seemed to be having a good time. "Don't get me wrong" comes on, a rather upbeat song and all of the sudden I start to hear sobbing. I look around and realize the woman I sat next to is not only SOBBING but is wiping her tears away with a leaf. I am so serious. I couldn't believe my eyes, maybe I was hallucinating. Maybe the cats were using their powers to warp my mind. But I looked again and there she was sobbing and wiping her tears with leaves from the tree. I was dying to figure out why she was crying. Maybe the cats had gotten to her? She starts talking on her cell phone so I decide to use my detective skills to listen in on the conversation. I hear her say "with friends like these who needs enemies."
2) On Thursday I came to work wearing a silver metallic spandex dress not thinking too much of it. I was wearing black stockings and a black shirt underneath so it wasn't revealing at all however the silver dress itself looks like a hooker dress so I can see how it threw people off. Anyway I was informed of a free Blondie/Pat Benatar concert happening in Coney Island that night. Since "free", "Blondie," and "Pat Benatar" are the three things in life I can't pass up I decided to go. The concert itself was awesome. I ignored the security guard and eventually got within two feet of the stage which was awesome because I love Blondie.
So the concert ends at 11.30 and I decide to take the 'F' train all the way to Jamaica thinking this will save me time. Please remember that I am wearing a hooker dress (over clothes!) but still. I sit next to a wall so I can sleep. Soon enough a big big woman decides to sit next to me. Now I am squished up against the wall. The woman proceeds to sing along to her iPod obnoxiously. Meanwhile the train is delayed and is stopped for 3 minutes at every stop. Eventually the big big woman gets off. I feel relief. The train gets very crowded but I figure things can't get worse. Oh how wrong was I. It is now 12.30 because the train is taking for-EVER and this obese woman steps onto the train. Guess where she decides to sit. If I thought I was squished up against the wall before I had no idea. This woman's blubber was squished against me. I felt it jiggle every time the train went and stopped. I felt every roll of her fat against me. She sat there until the train finally pulled into the last stop at 1.15.
Now I'm thinking it can only get better. Wrong. Turns out I took the train too far, the LIRR doesn't connect at Jamaica 179th it connects at Jamaica @Syniders or something like that. Rookie mistake. So I cross over to catch the 'F' train back. The 'F' train takes 20 minutes to come. Now I'm thinking 'if only I can get to Jamaica by 2.20, I can still catch a train home and not have to suffer the 3 hr "trains don't run" break from 2.30-5.30.'
I get off the 'F' and go to wait for the 'E' train thinking it can only take a few minutes to arrive. 45 minutes later the train arrives. It's 2.30 am. I finally get on the 'E' train and get to Jamaica. Luckily there is a train running at 3.30. So I wait and wait. Eventually this guy I'm sitting next to at Jamaica starts to talk to me. He is telling me that he just got back from karaoke. This man loves karaoke. He proceeded to tell me how karaoke changed his life.
Karaoke man is getting onto my train. We have been talking about karaoke for twenty minutes now. I haven't much contributed to the conversation. I just listen to him talk about karaoke and how it changed him and blah blah blah. Lo and behold on the train Karaoke man and I sit next to a guy who overhears the karaoke conversation and butts in with "are you guys talking about karaoke? I LOVE karaoke."
This is NOT happening.
So. We get to hear all about how this kid does karaoke and whenever he does karaoke he turns the bar into a mosh pit. Since when can KARAOKE turn ANYWHERE into a mosh pit?! It can't. This kid is full of it. Then he proceeds to tell us about the time he sang "American Idiot" and he sang the 'F' word and the entire bar gasped audibly. NO THEY DIDN'T. Unless you are singing in some weird-ass prude karaoke bar in Mississippi or something NO ONE CARES IF YOU CURSE IN A BAR. So then Karaoke man gets off at his stop. Now I am all alone with crazy karaoke kid. He starts to tell me about his light-saber fight choreography and I count the seconds until my stop comes.
I finally get home at 4am, and hope back on the train to work at 8.
So later on, whilst climbing rocks in heels (I amaze myself) I find myself sitting next to this woman who seems harmless enough. She seemed to be having a good time. "Don't get me wrong" comes on, a rather upbeat song and all of the sudden I start to hear sobbing. I look around and realize the woman I sat next to is not only SOBBING but is wiping her tears away with a leaf. I am so serious. I couldn't believe my eyes, maybe I was hallucinating. Maybe the cats were using their powers to warp my mind. But I looked again and there she was sobbing and wiping her tears with leaves from the tree. I was dying to figure out why she was crying. Maybe the cats had gotten to her? She starts talking on her cell phone so I decide to use my detective skills to listen in on the conversation. I hear her say "with friends like these who needs enemies."
2) On Thursday I came to work wearing a silver metallic spandex dress not thinking too much of it. I was wearing black stockings and a black shirt underneath so it wasn't revealing at all however the silver dress itself looks like a hooker dress so I can see how it threw people off. Anyway I was informed of a free Blondie/Pat Benatar concert happening in Coney Island that night. Since "free", "Blondie," and "Pat Benatar" are the three things in life I can't pass up I decided to go. The concert itself was awesome. I ignored the security guard and eventually got within two feet of the stage which was awesome because I love Blondie.
So the concert ends at 11.30 and I decide to take the 'F' train all the way to Jamaica thinking this will save me time. Please remember that I am wearing a hooker dress (over clothes!) but still. I sit next to a wall so I can sleep. Soon enough a big big woman decides to sit next to me. Now I am squished up against the wall. The woman proceeds to sing along to her iPod obnoxiously. Meanwhile the train is delayed and is stopped for 3 minutes at every stop. Eventually the big big woman gets off. I feel relief. The train gets very crowded but I figure things can't get worse. Oh how wrong was I. It is now 12.30 because the train is taking for-EVER and this obese woman steps onto the train. Guess where she decides to sit. If I thought I was squished up against the wall before I had no idea. This woman's blubber was squished against me. I felt it jiggle every time the train went and stopped. I felt every roll of her fat against me. She sat there until the train finally pulled into the last stop at 1.15.
Now I'm thinking it can only get better. Wrong. Turns out I took the train too far, the LIRR doesn't connect at Jamaica 179th it connects at Jamaica @Syniders or something like that. Rookie mistake. So I cross over to catch the 'F' train back. The 'F' train takes 20 minutes to come. Now I'm thinking 'if only I can get to Jamaica by 2.20, I can still catch a train home and not have to suffer the 3 hr "trains don't run" break from 2.30-5.30.'
I get off the 'F' and go to wait for the 'E' train thinking it can only take a few minutes to arrive. 45 minutes later the train arrives. It's 2.30 am. I finally get on the 'E' train and get to Jamaica. Luckily there is a train running at 3.30. So I wait and wait. Eventually this guy I'm sitting next to at Jamaica starts to talk to me. He is telling me that he just got back from karaoke. This man loves karaoke. He proceeded to tell me how karaoke changed his life.
Karaoke man is getting onto my train. We have been talking about karaoke for twenty minutes now. I haven't much contributed to the conversation. I just listen to him talk about karaoke and how it changed him and blah blah blah. Lo and behold on the train Karaoke man and I sit next to a guy who overhears the karaoke conversation and butts in with "are you guys talking about karaoke? I LOVE karaoke."
This is NOT happening.
So. We get to hear all about how this kid does karaoke and whenever he does karaoke he turns the bar into a mosh pit. Since when can KARAOKE turn ANYWHERE into a mosh pit?! It can't. This kid is full of it. Then he proceeds to tell us about the time he sang "American Idiot" and he sang the 'F' word and the entire bar gasped audibly. NO THEY DIDN'T. Unless you are singing in some weird-ass prude karaoke bar in Mississippi or something NO ONE CARES IF YOU CURSE IN A BAR. So then Karaoke man gets off at his stop. Now I am all alone with crazy karaoke kid. He starts to tell me about his light-saber fight choreography and I count the seconds until my stop comes.
I finally get home at 4am, and hope back on the train to work at 8.
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
What Was I Thinking, Kool Aid???
Last week one of the interns in the office (Kristin) informed me that Rosie O'Donnell and Cyndi Lauper were touring...together as one. Can you say "MUST-SEE?!?" But I didn't have the funds so I figured I'd just have to suffer the rest of my days knowing what I missed out on.
On Monday I get an email from my best friend Jen who works at Serino Coyne, "Yo, I got two tickets for the Rosie and Cyndi show in NJ." Hence the reason we are best friends.
The show is in New Jersey, of course, so we hop on the NJ Transit. Here is where the fun begins. We sit across from the "lavatory" behind this mom and her kid. We can't see the kid but she keeps saying funny cute things and Jen goes "I want to see what that kid looks like, she's cute." Two minutes later the girls bursts into a screaming/howling/tantrum/
Meanwhile a woman goes into the bathroom and comes out looking disheveled. Her hair is a mess and she turns to us and goes "I thought I was going to die in there." No other explanation provided.
So we get to the theatre. Rosie opens and she's chewing gum and referencing her cue cards. But it's all good, I've always been a Rosie fan, I was a child of the 90's: The Rosie O'Donnell Show, Kid's Choice Awards, Harriett the Spy, I ate that shit up.
So Rosie is almost done with her stand up...or so we were lead to believe...and she says she's going to come back after intermission and sing back up and play the drums.
I totally thought she was kidding. I'm pretty sure we all did.
So intermission happened which was a terrible idea because this gave the women around us plenty of time to get "drunk drunk drunk."
So Cyndi comes on and Rosie appears in the background as a backup singer. This would have been ok if she had not STILL been chewing gum. Chewing gum while singing. Meanwhile Cyndi is touching and caressing the stage curtains.
After the first song Cyndi and Rosie decide it is the perfect time to have a “comical” conversation. This was a conversation that only Cyndi and Rosie could follow. Crazy talk that not a sane soul could decipher. This happened 5 or 6 times throughout the concert. Songs followed by awkward conversation between Cyndi and Rosie. Conversations about...no one knows.
So Cyndi, I freakin’ love her but the woman is a mess. She kicks off her shoes halfway through the show. She forgot some of the lyrics to Time After Time. Then she stopped mid-way during one of her songs and goes “start over at the second stanza, I had a brain fart.” Cyndi. Lauper.
After one of the songs a drunk woman yells to the stage “The guard won’t let me dance, help me Cyndi.” So Cyndi goes over to assess the situation (IN THE MIDDLE OF THE CONCERT). She’s talking to the security guard, trying to figure it all out. Turns out it’s just a drunk lady who was illegally using her video camera and that’s why she was being yelled at. Not for dancing, for videotaping.
Now while this is all going on I have Crazy #1 in front of me. She is cheating on her husband. Jen caught her texting “My husband is gone, I will be out late”. This text took her an 5 entire minutes to type up. Then she turns to the security guard and starts to touch and hug and caress him. She is falling in her chair, falling into the wall, falling into the woman in front of her. At one point during one of Cyndi’s slow songs she yells out “Get it going, Cyndi!” really loud. The theatre is really small so Cyndi could hear her.
But Crazy #2 is my favorite. She is dancing as if she is performing an African Tribal Ritual Chant to the Rain God in hopes to end the drought. She is the dancing the weirdest dance I have ever seen in my entire 21 years if life. She is even worse than the group of ten 14-year-olds behind us who are swaying along as though they were attempting to do some sort of Michael Jackson Thriller tribute dance.
So then Cyndi and Rosie leave the stage and come back out a few minutes later. We get up and move to the front row and hang out by the stage. We were really close. Rosie is in fact playing the drums. But everything else is so crazy and weird that at this point I expect her to play the drums.
So Jen makes the mistake of standing in front of this very overweight woman to whom she refers to for the rest of the night as “The Blob”. Rosie jokingly starts to quote scripture (something involving bread). The Blob gets all excited and starts to recite along with Rosie. The Blob is all into it, she’s going Gospel. Rosie was kidding! This isn’t church! It’s a 95% lesbians, 5% other-event! Not Church Blob!! So now The Blob turns to Jen who is standing in front of her and goes “If I were you I would move.” Jen decides since The Blob isn’t her that she will stay where she is. The woman turns to her and goes “did you not just here what I said?” Jen said “yeah you said if I were you I’d move and you’re not me so I’m gonna stay.” The Blob turns back to her and says “MOVE.” After argument Jen does eventually move, all the while plotting her revenge. She has come up with comeback after comeback but instead decides that she will just punch The Blob in the face on the way out for being too rude.
All I can say about this night is that if I had missed out, my life would in no way be at the caliber it is now. This was the weirdest thing I have ever experienced. There really are no words to describe it no matter how hard I try.
PS. Rosie smiled at me.
PPS. At the end of the night Cyndi introduced Rosie O’Donnell as “Rosie O’Donneld.” They have been touring together for 3 years. That woman is an awesome/fun/train-wreck/mes
On Monday I get an email from my best friend Jen who works at Serino Coyne, "Yo, I got two tickets for the Rosie and Cyndi show in NJ." Hence the reason we are best friends.
The show is in New Jersey, of course, so we hop on the NJ Transit. Here is where the fun begins. We sit across from the "lavatory" behind this mom and her kid. We can't see the kid but she keeps saying funny cute things and Jen goes "I want to see what that kid looks like, she's cute." Two minutes later the girls bursts into a screaming/howling/tantrum/
Meanwhile a woman goes into the bathroom and comes out looking disheveled. Her hair is a mess and she turns to us and goes "I thought I was going to die in there." No other explanation provided.
So we get to the theatre. Rosie opens and she's chewing gum and referencing her cue cards. But it's all good, I've always been a Rosie fan, I was a child of the 90's: The Rosie O'Donnell Show, Kid's Choice Awards, Harriett the Spy, I ate that shit up.
So Rosie is almost done with her stand up...or so we were lead to believe...and she says she's going to come back after intermission and sing back up and play the drums.
I totally thought she was kidding. I'm pretty sure we all did.
So intermission happened which was a terrible idea because this gave the women around us plenty of time to get "drunk drunk drunk."
So Cyndi comes on and Rosie appears in the background as a backup singer. This would have been ok if she had not STILL been chewing gum. Chewing gum while singing. Meanwhile Cyndi is touching and caressing the stage curtains.
After the first song Cyndi and Rosie decide it is the perfect time to have a “comical” conversation. This was a conversation that only Cyndi and Rosie could follow. Crazy talk that not a sane soul could decipher. This happened 5 or 6 times throughout the concert. Songs followed by awkward conversation between Cyndi and Rosie. Conversations about...no one knows.
So Cyndi, I freakin’ love her but the woman is a mess. She kicks off her shoes halfway through the show. She forgot some of the lyrics to Time After Time. Then she stopped mid-way during one of her songs and goes “start over at the second stanza, I had a brain fart.” Cyndi. Lauper.
After one of the songs a drunk woman yells to the stage “The guard won’t let me dance, help me Cyndi.” So Cyndi goes over to assess the situation (IN THE MIDDLE OF THE CONCERT). She’s talking to the security guard, trying to figure it all out. Turns out it’s just a drunk lady who was illegally using her video camera and that’s why she was being yelled at. Not for dancing, for videotaping.
Now while this is all going on I have Crazy #1 in front of me. She is cheating on her husband. Jen caught her texting “My husband is gone, I will be out late”. This text took her an 5 entire minutes to type up. Then she turns to the security guard and starts to touch and hug and caress him. She is falling in her chair, falling into the wall, falling into the woman in front of her. At one point during one of Cyndi’s slow songs she yells out “Get it going, Cyndi!” really loud. The theatre is really small so Cyndi could hear her.
But Crazy #2 is my favorite. She is dancing as if she is performing an African Tribal Ritual Chant to the Rain God in hopes to end the drought. She is the dancing the weirdest dance I have ever seen in my entire 21 years if life. She is even worse than the group of ten 14-year-olds behind us who are swaying along as though they were attempting to do some sort of Michael Jackson Thriller tribute dance.
So then Cyndi and Rosie leave the stage and come back out a few minutes later. We get up and move to the front row and hang out by the stage. We were really close. Rosie is in fact playing the drums. But everything else is so crazy and weird that at this point I expect her to play the drums.
So Jen makes the mistake of standing in front of this very overweight woman to whom she refers to for the rest of the night as “The Blob”. Rosie jokingly starts to quote scripture (something involving bread). The Blob gets all excited and starts to recite along with Rosie. The Blob is all into it, she’s going Gospel. Rosie was kidding! This isn’t church! It’s a 95% lesbians, 5% other-event! Not Church Blob!! So now The Blob turns to Jen who is standing in front of her and goes “If I were you I would move.” Jen decides since The Blob isn’t her that she will stay where she is. The woman turns to her and goes “did you not just here what I said?” Jen said “yeah you said if I were you I’d move and you’re not me so I’m gonna stay.” The Blob turns back to her and says “MOVE.” After argument Jen does eventually move, all the while plotting her revenge. She has come up with comeback after comeback but instead decides that she will just punch The Blob in the face on the way out for being too rude.
All I can say about this night is that if I had missed out, my life would in no way be at the caliber it is now. This was the weirdest thing I have ever experienced. There really are no words to describe it no matter how hard I try.
PS. Rosie smiled at me.
PPS. At the end of the night Cyndi introduced Rosie O’Donnell as “Rosie O’Donneld.” They have been touring together for 3 years. That woman is an awesome/fun/train-wreck/mes
Little Red Volkswagon
At the beginning of June I was walking home from the train station and I noticed this beautiful fire-engine red Volkswagen Beetle. I love fire-engine red, it's my favorite color. As I am passing by this glorious vehicle, I notice it's license plate reads 'XenaCher'. I stop dead in my tracks. Ugh. I have found my soul mate. She is the driver of this car. She loves Xena and Cher. What a random combination of things to love. And I too love both Xena and Cher. (Make fun of me all you want, I am not alone!) So then I proceed to look in the windows of the car to see what other kinds of things she likes. She has a wooden rose in the front window, just like the metal rose I have from the Renaissance festival. Hanging from the mirror is a car freshener shaped like a Popsicle. Hmm, she likes Popsicles. I am pretty sure it is love. So I write a note that says "I love your license plate. ~Katie" and leave it in her windshield.
The next day I see the car again, both in the morning and in the evening when I return. I see the car, but I never see the driver. So I start taking different trains home. 605, 634, 714, 741, ect ect and I try to see if I find someone who is walking towards her car. I want to find her. But I never find her. She is never getting off the same train as me. I even stay really late sometimes and come back really late. But I keep missing her.
I need to meet the driver of this car. Even if it means taking a day off work and sitting by the steps watching the car. I need to find her. She needs to be my friend. Call it stalking, I call it love! (Kirby if you are reading this I am in no way advocating the stalking of You-Know-Who and no I'm not talking about Harry Potter).
The next day I see the car again, both in the morning and in the evening when I return. I see the car, but I never see the driver. So I start taking different trains home. 605, 634, 714, 741, ect ect and I try to see if I find someone who is walking towards her car. I want to find her. But I never find her. She is never getting off the same train as me. I even stay really late sometimes and come back really late. But I keep missing her.
I need to meet the driver of this car. Even if it means taking a day off work and sitting by the steps watching the car. I need to find her. She needs to be my friend. Call it stalking, I call it love! (Kirby if you are reading this I am in no way advocating the stalking of You-Know-Who and no I'm not talking about Harry Potter).
Crazy Train
I had this long detailed note typed out about how times square wasted an hour of my life and how I must have read too many Jaqueline Susann novels because I go into unnecessary detail all of the time (like now) but my phone deleted it so here is a shorter version.
I get on the 741 train to L.I. which happens to be a ghetto Harlem line train instead of the usual nice new LIRR train. I sit down and I realize too late that I've made a huge mistake. A big blonde woman (about 50 or 60) walks onto the train followed by a thinner blonde (about 30 or 40) trailed by two kids. The thinner blonde woman starts yelling at the big blonde woman who turns out to be her mother. "What the hell. Why did you move? I have this big suitcase. What the hell is wrong with you your such a bitch I wouldn't do that to you. Now where am I supposed to put my suitcase. What is your problem Mom?" She turns to random passengers "You care if I put my suitcase here?" She doesn't wait for a response. "what is your problem" she continues to yell, and then she starts yelling at her kids. Meanwhile the mom, who has chosen to sit next to me, is whispering to herself "leave me alone, just leave me alone." over and over. I got the feeling she was just like one of the quite kids in school that everyone picks on and then they go crazy and shoot up the school. I was a little scared. So I call Avery and pray that she answers the phone. She doesn't but she calls me right back and I answer the phone in an excuse to exit the car and proceed to the next one down.
So I get to the next car, sit down and happen to glance over at the passenger who has pulled out a flask and is pouring liquor into his coffee mug. Hey, pass me the mug.
I get on the 741 train to L.I. which happens to be a ghetto Harlem line train instead of the usual nice new LIRR train. I sit down and I realize too late that I've made a huge mistake. A big blonde woman (about 50 or 60) walks onto the train followed by a thinner blonde (about 30 or 40) trailed by two kids. The thinner blonde woman starts yelling at the big blonde woman who turns out to be her mother. "What the hell. Why did you move? I have this big suitcase. What the hell is wrong with you your such a bitch I wouldn't do that to you. Now where am I supposed to put my suitcase. What is your problem Mom?" She turns to random passengers "You care if I put my suitcase here?" She doesn't wait for a response. "what is your problem" she continues to yell, and then she starts yelling at her kids. Meanwhile the mom, who has chosen to sit next to me, is whispering to herself "leave me alone, just leave me alone." over and over. I got the feeling she was just like one of the quite kids in school that everyone picks on and then they go crazy and shoot up the school. I was a little scared. So I call Avery and pray that she answers the phone. She doesn't but she calls me right back and I answer the phone in an excuse to exit the car and proceed to the next one down.
So I get to the next car, sit down and happen to glance over at the passenger who has pulled out a flask and is pouring liquor into his coffee mug. Hey, pass me the mug.
Of Umbrellas and Unfortunate Tourists
1) I'm in Penn Station walking toward the 123 trains and I stop to listen to these two flustered women yelling at each other. They yell to a random guy asking how to get to the LIRR. He says to go towards the 8th and 34th entrance. A total lie. It's so wrong, that man sent those women in the complete opposite direction, on purpose. I stood there and tried to yell to them "wait, that is so wrong!" But I didn't yell loud enough so only two passersby heard me and they laughed.
2) Its raining out. I am walking toward Penn Station. I am trying to duck under Duane Reade for some shelter because of course I don't have an umbrella seeing as I tend to break every umbrella I come across. But I can't duck under Duane Reade because all the people with umbrellas are ducking under Duane Reade. Ummm hello?? You have an umbrella!! No need to look for additional shelter people!! Gawd! Everyone is so inconsiderate.
3) I've never thought seriously about dying before until Tuesday when we had to watch The Partridge Family in the office during lunch. Until Tuesday I had been complaining about having to watch Dynasty during lunch. I had no idea that it could get worse. In fact, I'm convinced that the only thing worse than Dynasty is in fact, The Partridge Family.
2) Its raining out. I am walking toward Penn Station. I am trying to duck under Duane Reade for some shelter because of course I don't have an umbrella seeing as I tend to break every umbrella I come across. But I can't duck under Duane Reade because all the people with umbrellas are ducking under Duane Reade. Ummm hello?? You have an umbrella!! No need to look for additional shelter people!! Gawd! Everyone is so inconsiderate.
3) I've never thought seriously about dying before until Tuesday when we had to watch The Partridge Family in the office during lunch. Until Tuesday I had been complaining about having to watch Dynasty during lunch. I had no idea that it could get worse. In fact, I'm convinced that the only thing worse than Dynasty is in fact, The Partridge Family.
Adventures of a "Better Connecticut Driver"
So I'm sitting here in "A Better Connecticut Driver" class. I guess I got pulled over one too many times. I'm not proud of myself. The teacher hands us a packet and asks us to answer the questions on page 5. First question: Why does it take authority to make us drive correctly? My response: Because sometimes its hard to understand why certain rules exist. Second question: if a driver's license is so important, why do people jeopardize it? Response: Because rules are made to be broken. Third question: Do some people feel they can do as they please when it comes to driving? Response: As they should.
How was I supposed to take that seriously? How.
Now, I am convinced that Vito Corleone is in my class. When he talks he sounds exactly like The Godfather. Aside from his unique voice, his outfit is completely outrageous. He is wearing a Hawaiian-type shirt which is maroon and sea green with Aztecan symbols all over it. He is wearing a black and white studded belt that looks like it came from hot topic, and he's wearing cameo army pants. His shoes are what make the outfit however. They are hard to describe because they are so ridiculous. They are purple and silver and are dress shoes. Vito looks about 58. This guy is a character.
So there is Vito and then there is the kid who has taken this class three times. Then there is Lyme's disease woman. I call her this because she proceeded to have a very long cell phone conversation on her cell phone about the huge tick she found in her bed and about how her dog used to have Lyme's disease. (Not everyone needs to know). Barbie is sitting behind me, her violation was misuse of license plates which I assume means she had something girly and decorative around her plates which is apparently illegal, even the plastic things that car dealers put around your plates are technically illegal, and so are air fresheners. And I didn't yet mention the crazy man who is so crazy that he is indescribable. Picture a drunken crazy overzealous man and give him a car. One of the questions on our test was how many drinks does it take to affect your driving and the options were 1, 2, 3, or 4. Crazy guy said "none of these options are true! It's way higher for me." And then he proceeded to say "they didn't say nothin' about sippin' and driving," after being told that drinking and driving is not ok.
The teacher asks "how may of you have been tailgated by a cop?" Crazy man says "I mean to brake him next time!"
Although I did learn in this class to always fight a ticket and always take a ticket to court, always. I will do so in the future. The teacher also said straight up, the fact that my car is red is an absolute reason for getting a ticket in itself. Note to self, next car needs to be beige.
This class was a hysterical experience and I recommend that if you want something amusing to do on a Saturday morning, just get a few moving violations and you're on your way to the most interesting Saturday morning you'll ever have.
How was I supposed to take that seriously? How.
Now, I am convinced that Vito Corleone is in my class. When he talks he sounds exactly like The Godfather. Aside from his unique voice, his outfit is completely outrageous. He is wearing a Hawaiian-type shirt which is maroon and sea green with Aztecan symbols all over it. He is wearing a black and white studded belt that looks like it came from hot topic, and he's wearing cameo army pants. His shoes are what make the outfit however. They are hard to describe because they are so ridiculous. They are purple and silver and are dress shoes. Vito looks about 58. This guy is a character.
So there is Vito and then there is the kid who has taken this class three times. Then there is Lyme's disease woman. I call her this because she proceeded to have a very long cell phone conversation on her cell phone about the huge tick she found in her bed and about how her dog used to have Lyme's disease. (Not everyone needs to know). Barbie is sitting behind me, her violation was misuse of license plates which I assume means she had something girly and decorative around her plates which is apparently illegal, even the plastic things that car dealers put around your plates are technically illegal, and so are air fresheners. And I didn't yet mention the crazy man who is so crazy that he is indescribable. Picture a drunken crazy overzealous man and give him a car. One of the questions on our test was how many drinks does it take to affect your driving and the options were 1, 2, 3, or 4. Crazy guy said "none of these options are true! It's way higher for me." And then he proceeded to say "they didn't say nothin' about sippin' and driving," after being told that drinking and driving is not ok.
The teacher asks "how may of you have been tailgated by a cop?" Crazy man says "I mean to brake him next time!"
Although I did learn in this class to always fight a ticket and always take a ticket to court, always. I will do so in the future. The teacher also said straight up, the fact that my car is red is an absolute reason for getting a ticket in itself. Note to self, next car needs to be beige.
This class was a hysterical experience and I recommend that if you want something amusing to do on a Saturday morning, just get a few moving violations and you're on your way to the most interesting Saturday morning you'll ever have.
The Philosophy of "Tim"
Oh my God I am so glad that my philosophy class is over. The people in my class are complete idiots.
This one idiot, lets call him "Tim" because I don't know his actual name nor care to, has asked 7 completely moronic questions today. Today is the last class. The first thing my professor said when he walked into class is "Ok I'm going to let you guys go unless you have any questions." I thought "Great! Now I have more time to study for my exam which is after this class which is going to be the hardest exam of my life! What a lifesaver!"
This one idiot, lets call him "Tim" because I don't know his actual name nor care to, has asked 7 completely moronic questions today. Today is the last class. The first thing my professor said when he walked into class is "Ok I'm going to let you guys go unless you have any questions." I thought "Great! Now I have more time to study for my exam which is after this class which is going to be the hardest exam of my life! What a lifesaver!"
But no. Tim has to chime in here. Tim has to ask questions, questions that have nothing to do with anything. "What kind of cat is on your shirt?" "How come at the beginning of the semester you wore ties and now you wear t-shirts?"
Are you f%#$ing kidding me Tim?? I have shit to do and your making me sit here and listen to your moronic questions about freaking cats meanwhile I need to study. I hope a cat attacks you on your walk home. I hope you get hit by a Cata bus and die. I obviously didn't learn anything in this class by the way since it is a class on ethics and I'm wishing for the death of Tim. Fucking Tim man. Tim.
So along with Tim's moronic questions he also proceeds to ask if we need to cite our references if we quote then in our paper. Hmm let me see if I can answer this question for you Tim...YES. YES TIM. ARE YOU NOT ATTENDING AN ESTABLISHED UNIVERSITY RIGHT NOW???? TIIIIMMMMMM GGGAAAAHHHHHH. WHAT HAVE YOU BEEN DOING WITH YOUR ENTIRE WASTED LIFE?!?
One more thing about Tim. Today in class he asked where we need to drop off our final paper. Professor says 240 Sparks Building. Tim says "Wait, I'm confused. I just go in there and drop it off? Whenever I want? I'm so confused."
Death to you Tim.
So along with Tim's moronic questions he also proceeds to ask if we need to cite our references if we quote then in our paper. Hmm let me see if I can answer this question for you Tim...YES. YES TIM. ARE YOU NOT ATTENDING AN ESTABLISHED UNIVERSITY RIGHT NOW???? TIIIIMMMMMM GGGAAAAHHHHHH. WHAT HAVE YOU BEEN DOING WITH YOUR ENTIRE WASTED LIFE?!?
One more thing about Tim. Today in class he asked where we need to drop off our final paper. Professor says 240 Sparks Building. Tim says "Wait, I'm confused. I just go in there and drop it off? Whenever I want? I'm so confused."
Death to you Tim.
How 5 Dollars Saved My Life
This is so weird:
This morning after my first class, I was starving and so I went to get lunch. I realized then that I forgot my ID card at home and I didn't have any cash on me. I didn't have enough time between classes to walk home and even if I did I didn't have the key to my apartment right then. If I was late to my next class I would lose 5 points off my total grade. I had class till 5:30 so I wouldn't have been able to go home and eat till then. I was screwed.
I went to the Thespian office to see if there was anyone there that I would be comfortable borrowing money from. Of course today, of all days, no one was in the Thespian office. I waited up there for about an hour and no one came so I decided to head to class. I had also decided to attempt to steal something from the convenience store, I was sooo hungry and desperate at this point. This seemed like my only option.
So I went to return the Thespian key to the front desk and I went on my way to attempt to steal food and I saw 5 dollars sitting on the table of the HUB info desk. I looked around, no one seemed to be looking at the money or acknowledging it. No one was around. So I took the 5 dollars and bought food. (A 4 dollar slice of pizza; hey, remember when pizza was a dollar??).
Of all the days in the world for me to find 5 dollars I find it on the day when I desperately need it. Isn't that so weird?? What a strange coincidence.
This morning after my first class, I was starving and so I went to get lunch. I realized then that I forgot my ID card at home and I didn't have any cash on me. I didn't have enough time between classes to walk home and even if I did I didn't have the key to my apartment right then. If I was late to my next class I would lose 5 points off my total grade. I had class till 5:30 so I wouldn't have been able to go home and eat till then. I was screwed.
I went to the Thespian office to see if there was anyone there that I would be comfortable borrowing money from. Of course today, of all days, no one was in the Thespian office. I waited up there for about an hour and no one came so I decided to head to class. I had also decided to attempt to steal something from the convenience store, I was sooo hungry and desperate at this point. This seemed like my only option.
So I went to return the Thespian key to the front desk and I went on my way to attempt to steal food and I saw 5 dollars sitting on the table of the HUB info desk. I looked around, no one seemed to be looking at the money or acknowledging it. No one was around. So I took the 5 dollars and bought food. (A 4 dollar slice of pizza; hey, remember when pizza was a dollar??).
Of all the days in the world for me to find 5 dollars I find it on the day when I desperately need it. Isn't that so weird?? What a strange coincidence.
People Are Dumb
I've attempted to reference The Doors here. Get it?
Bimbo #1: "So like I went to the bank today and it took like 10 minutes because they had to run a background check on my check and I was like 'what the hell?'.''
Bimbo #2: "Were they running a background check on you or the person who wrote the check?"
Bimbo #1: "Umm no like I was literally legitimately in the bank for like 7 whole minutes because the lady had to run a background check on my check."
Bimbo #2: "Oh"
Bimbo #1 "So like I didn't have time to eat cuz it took sooo long so I had to get a flatbread sandwich from McDonalds and it was sooooo gross!"
Bimbo #2: "Omg I heard they were gross! Ugh, so weird."
Senario 2
A few minutes after taking a quiz...
Bimbo #1: "Cheater cheater pumpkin eater."
Bimbo #2: "That doesn't even make any sense what does cheating have to do with eating pumpkins?"
Bimbo #1: "Idk it's just a saying."
Bimbo #2: "But like, who eats pumpkins? Blah!"
The saddest thing about this "conversation" if you can call it that is it happened in my 400 level psychophysiological recording class. Aren't neuro-scientists supposed to be smart?
Senario 2
At work as cashier:
Me: "What kind of burger do you have?"
Customer looking at me like I asked him the stupidest question in the world: "Ummm it's just a regular cheeseburger."
Ok listen. I do not have the see-through vision. My eyes cannot pierce through the aluminum wrapping around your burger. You know how many differently priced burgers we sell here? Seven. So don't make me out to be the idiot.
Bimbo #1: "Cheater cheater pumpkin eater."
Bimbo #2: "That doesn't even make any sense what does cheating have to do with eating pumpkins?"
Bimbo #1: "Idk it's just a saying."
Bimbo #2: "But like, who eats pumpkins? Blah!"
The saddest thing about this "conversation" if you can call it that is it happened in my 400 level psychophysiological recording class. Aren't neuro-scientists supposed to be smart?
Senario 2
At work as cashier:
Me: "What kind of burger do you have?"
Customer looking at me like I asked him the stupidest question in the world: "Ummm it's just a regular cheeseburger."
Ok listen. I do not have the see-through vision. My eyes cannot pierce through the aluminum wrapping around your burger. You know how many differently priced burgers we sell here? Seven. So don't make me out to be the idiot.
Senario 3
Customer: "I have fries and a glass of water."
Me: "Well thank God you told me. I thought that was Vodka that you got out of the drink dispenser, and that would have been expensive."
Customer: "I have fries and a glass of water."
Me: "Well thank God you told me. I thought that was Vodka that you got out of the drink dispenser, and that would have been expensive."
Gen Y: Keep the 90's Alive
My Dad, Allison and I are driving around today and we are behind a car that has a DVD player in it. My dad goes, "I think they're watching some Santa Claus movie, I see red." Then Allison goes, "no they're watching Ariel the Little Mermaid!" And I'm going "no they're not! It's not even animated!" Allison's going "yes it is!" We're arguing about it. We decide we are determined to figure out what the kids are watching in the car. We're going "dad get closer!" We are praying for a red light and of course every time you want a red light its like 5 green lights in a row which is exactly what happened. Finally we are blessed with the Christmas miracle of a red light. We get really close to the car and what are the kids watching? Care Bears. Sooooo 1992. Props to those kids. It was totally worth the frustration of squinting our eyes to try to figure out what they were watching to get to watch Care Bears for a few seconds.
I think the point is, DVD players in cars are dangerous.
I think the point is, DVD players in cars are dangerous.
Pies In A Can
As some of you know, in 5th grade I invented something called "Pies In A Can." It's 3 little pies in one easy to open can that can be a snack that you bring to school or work. My invention came complete with a theme song: "Pies in a can! Pies in a can! We're gonna eat 'em as fast as we can! Gooooo Pies! IIIIIInnn a can!
I was in stews today and lo and behold what do I see? Pies in a can!!! What the hell?? That's my invention! The government stole my idea! They must have heard me talking and since they have the means to implement my ideas they did it before I could!! I'm so angry! That was going to be my golden ticket, I was gonna be rich! Ugh! The man has once again kicked me down.
They Must Not Have Seen Wall.E
I'm cashier at the Bluespoon dinging commons right now. Why is it that people will get two or three items and then ask for a bag? I understand having five items and asking for a bag but do you really need a bag when you bought two items? Do you not have two hands? I mean come on people, global warming, land fills, ect, ect....come on! If you can carry it to the counter you can carry it out of the store.
I would feel more comforted if I thought these people were going to recycle, but I know they will not, they're college students.
What really gets me is when I am working at an omelette bar and someone comes up to me and says 'I'll have an omelette.' These are the same people who respond 'eggs' when I ask them what they want in their omelette. Am I attending a highly ranked university? It's times like these when I'm not so sure...
I would feel more comforted if I thought these people were going to recycle, but I know they will not, they're college students.
What really gets me is when I am working at an omelette bar and someone comes up to me and says 'I'll have an omelette.' These are the same people who respond 'eggs' when I ask them what they want in their omelette. Am I attending a highly ranked university? It's times like these when I'm not so sure...
Dark Knight TheAtah
We went to see the opening night midnight showing of The Dark Knight tonight. By 'we' I mean me and the two young girls I babysit for (parent's approved). We were definitely in the most exciting, and certainly most drama filled, of the ten theaters showing this movie.
So someone starts passing around a beach ball. All fun and games until I get passed the ball and as I would I hit it into this dude's head accidentally. He calls me a douchebag. It would have been fine except, again, I'm was with two of the girls I babysit for. The entire next day, all I hear is 'What's a douchebag?', 'What's a douchebag?', 'What does it mean?'. Fun for me.
So the guy I hit gots mad and popped the beach ball. So it's cool right because the guys behind me who started the beach ball thing had another beach ball. Sweet. We started passing it around again and all of a sudden this crazy beach-ball-nazi bitch stands up and goes, in this white-trailer-trash 'I wish I were truly' ghetto voice, 'there is a baby in this theatre and if anyone gets that beach ball near the baby I am gon' get the manager!' All the while she is doing the ghetto finger swirl of disapproval, all shaking her hips, the whole bit.
So someone accidentally hits the beach ball towards her and she catches it and pops it. The guy behind me goes 'My grandma gave me that beach ball before she died!'. She we finally get someone to pass back the original beach ball. The guys get some tape and blows the ball back up and tapes over the hole. We start passing the ball around again. Crazy Bitch gets up and gives us all the middle finger. People start yelling things like 'Who brings a baby to a midnight show'?, 'it's that baby's bedtime!' and 'Social services!' All legitimate points.
So finally the other beach ball loses momentum and we give up trying to find a third beach ball. The previews start and the guy behind me goes, 'Wait. This is the midnight showing of Mama Mia right?' I I turn to him and I go 'Gee I hope so.' And then we all quiet down.
Surprisingly, the baby doesn't cry the whole movie. But seriously, who brings a baby to the midnight showing of Batman? UMMMM.........
So someone starts passing around a beach ball. All fun and games until I get passed the ball and as I would I hit it into this dude's head accidentally. He calls me a douchebag. It would have been fine except, again, I'm was with two of the girls I babysit for. The entire next day, all I hear is 'What's a douchebag?', 'What's a douchebag?', 'What does it mean?'. Fun for me.
So the guy I hit gots mad and popped the beach ball. So it's cool right because the guys behind me who started the beach ball thing had another beach ball. Sweet. We started passing it around again and all of a sudden this crazy beach-ball-nazi bitch stands up and goes, in this white-trailer-trash 'I wish I were truly' ghetto voice, 'there is a baby in this theatre and if anyone gets that beach ball near the baby I am gon' get the manager!' All the while she is doing the ghetto finger swirl of disapproval, all shaking her hips, the whole bit.
So someone accidentally hits the beach ball towards her and she catches it and pops it. The guy behind me goes 'My grandma gave me that beach ball before she died!'. She we finally get someone to pass back the original beach ball. The guys get some tape and blows the ball back up and tapes over the hole. We start passing the ball around again. Crazy Bitch gets up and gives us all the middle finger. People start yelling things like 'Who brings a baby to a midnight show'?, 'it's that baby's bedtime!' and 'Social services!' All legitimate points.
So finally the other beach ball loses momentum and we give up trying to find a third beach ball. The previews start and the guy behind me goes, 'Wait. This is the midnight showing of Mama Mia right?' I I turn to him and I go 'Gee I hope so.' And then we all quiet down.
Surprisingly, the baby doesn't cry the whole movie. But seriously, who brings a baby to the midnight showing of Batman? UMMMM.........
Overheard at Penn State
Sometimes I am so ashamed to go here....
Girl: "Ummm, yes there is."
Dumbass: "No there isn't, what are you talking about."
Guy: "Dude, it's the REPUBLIC of South Africa."
Dumbass: "Yeah see I knew it! It's a Republic not a country!"
Girl: "The Republic of South Africa is a country."
Dumbass: "Whatever."
You're not bitter and mean until you're a Cata bus driver
So today on the Cata bus I witnessed a somewhat infuriating event. (For those of you who do not know the Cata buses are a set of buses that transfer us students around campus). Now, there are two doors on the Cata, a front door on which you enter and a backdoor off which you exit.
Today, a guy dressed in what I believe was an Air Force uniform stepped onto the back exit to get onto the bus. The guy dressed in the uniform had crutches and clearly had a broken leg. The bus driver yelled at him and told him the back door was not an entrance. The guy apologized. Then the bus driver yelled at him to get off the bus. So the poor Air Force guy with his crutches and broken leg hopped off the bus and got on the line to get onto the bus the "correct way." He didn't make it on the bus because the bus was too full.
Now I understand that the bus driver must get aggravated everyday by students who are a pain in the ass and are rude and unfriendly, yadda yadda. The bus driver has to drive around all day long and deal with all us horrible, loud, obnoxious students, I get it. I really do. But COME ON. This guy wasn't trying to be an asshole. He was dressed in uniform. He had crutches!!! Really? Did he need to be kicked off the bus? I was and am still pretty upset about it, thus this blog. Am I overreacting? I don't know, I don't even know why this is bothering me so much. I just felt so bad for the poor guy.
Now I understand that the bus driver must get aggravated everyday by students who are a pain in the ass and are rude and unfriendly, yadda yadda. The bus driver has to drive around all day long and deal with all us horrible, loud, obnoxious students, I get it. I really do. But COME ON. This guy wasn't trying to be an asshole. He was dressed in uniform. He had crutches!!! Really? Did he need to be kicked off the bus? I was and am still pretty upset about it, thus this blog. Am I overreacting? I don't know, I don't even know why this is bothering me so much. I just felt so bad for the poor guy.
So Do I
I am walking back to my apartment today and I see this guy with this truck with these big pimp wheels playing pimp music. He pulls his car near the sidewalk, right next to a no parking sign. His car is not parallel to the sidewalk, it is diagonal, thus his car is partially in a driving lane, impeding traffic. He parks the car. His friend is walks by and goes "Dude, do you just do whatever the fuck you want?" And he goes, "yeah dude."
Epiphony
I had a moment of revelation today, Thespians, please don't shun me.
Schwab is the building on campus where Thespians have all of their shows and we have our props shop, costume shop, and wood shop in this building. It is the Thespian building.
So it is said, Schwab is haunted by the ghost of Schwabo. We always joke about it but deep down all of us are afraid of Schwabo. He makes clanking noises, and locks doors when they shouldn't be locked and turns lights off or sometimes doesn't let us turn lights off. Schwabo is a ghost.
Last semester, Alex Ritter and I decided to sleep in Schwab overnight. Doing this is a feat in Thespians. The night we slept in Schwab, some scary things happened. We heard noises and clanking. The light in the props shop wouldn't turn off, which has never happened before. What particularly freaked me out was when I flicked the upstairs light switch off and the light still stayed on.
I was in Schwab today bringing back the piano from rehearsal and I decided I should save the world and turn off the light. I go to flick the switch down and the light stays on. I inquire further. I flick the switch a few times, nada. Finally, I press down hard on the light switch. The lights go out.
At this moment I realize that this whole time, it wasn't Schwabo, it was faulty wiring.
Let me leave this case as one that cannot be generalized. Thus, I am not saying this is proof to me that ghosts don't exist. But in this case I must say, I think we have been seeing what we want to see.
I hate to say it but...Schwabo? I don't believe.
Schwab is the building on campus where Thespians have all of their shows and we have our props shop, costume shop, and wood shop in this building. It is the Thespian building.
So it is said, Schwab is haunted by the ghost of Schwabo. We always joke about it but deep down all of us are afraid of Schwabo. He makes clanking noises, and locks doors when they shouldn't be locked and turns lights off or sometimes doesn't let us turn lights off. Schwabo is a ghost.
Last semester, Alex Ritter and I decided to sleep in Schwab overnight. Doing this is a feat in Thespians. The night we slept in Schwab, some scary things happened. We heard noises and clanking. The light in the props shop wouldn't turn off, which has never happened before. What particularly freaked me out was when I flicked the upstairs light switch off and the light still stayed on.
I was in Schwab today bringing back the piano from rehearsal and I decided I should save the world and turn off the light. I go to flick the switch down and the light stays on. I inquire further. I flick the switch a few times, nada. Finally, I press down hard on the light switch. The lights go out.
At this moment I realize that this whole time, it wasn't Schwabo, it was faulty wiring.
Let me leave this case as one that cannot be generalized. Thus, I am not saying this is proof to me that ghosts don't exist. But in this case I must say, I think we have been seeing what we want to see.
I hate to say it but...Schwabo? I don't believe.
Paternoville
2006:
First game: Temple? It was the weekend after I moved to PA, I went with my roommate Alex as she was the only person I knew, and we bonded and became friends at this game. It rained cats and dogs but we made a vow that we would never leave a football game a second before the game was over, and till this day we never have.
First Paternoville: Michigan 2006. This is when Alex and I met Alex Cohen, Lebowitz, Bob, Micah, Ian, and Aaron. They let us join their group. I never experienced anything like Paternoville before, I never will again. From that game on we were hooked. We P-Villed again for the other big home game that season.
2007:
This season we Paternovilled almost every game, certainly every game we could, we might have missed two or three. But we became part of Tony's Tribe and we befriended TJ and Mike and Chris and Vanessa and Natalie, but they were a separate section from us. Tony's Tribe was Cohen, Lebo, Aaron, Bob, Ian, Micah, ect...It was awsome.
2008:
Didn't miss Paternoville for one game. It has become a part of college life. We are now AJ's Runaways. TJ, Chris, Vanessa, Natalie, Alex, Bob, Mike, Stephanie, and I. I can't tell you how much fun we had this season and how it breaks my heart to miss the last game of the season.
It kills me that I will miss next season, maybe I should have decided to study abroad in the Spring and soley base this decision on football, it's justified.
Things I won't miss about Paternoville/football:
-Not sleeping for more than two hrs a night, 3-5 nights in a row because it's too damn cold to sleep.
-Sleeping on the cold cement
-Sleeping in a damp/wet tent/sleeping bag because it is raining
-getting up at 8am to move my car from Shields building to Beaver Stadium
-getting up at 6:30am to tear down our tent
-not being able to eat from 8am till 6pm during big games
-The hike from beaver staduim to Stuckman and back, ugh!
-Annoying non-pvillers screaming at 4am during week-long pvilles.
Things I will miss about Paternoville/football:
-Friends
-snuggling in the tent with whoever
-the drums
-chanting hate songs
-creating hate songs (Hey, Austin)
-Mob Mentality (mob chants, ect...)
-Giant food fights
-putting people in the tree
-free food from random people who feel bad for us
-catchphrase
-slip-n-slide
-Africa
-random stadium music that has nothing to do with anything
-yelling at Morelli, or whomever is pissing us off at the moment
-being on the rail (the view!!)
-Chris AKA Spiderman the Cameraman
-Being on the Gumbotron constantly
-PJ, and her fire-twirling batons
-Random blue-band half-time theme
-the "s" zone
-Being tossed when we score
-Passing the lion, and grabbing his ass
-Seeing JoPa on the field
-Zombie Nation
-Tequila!
-Painting Up
-Slow wave and Crack wave
-Booing the opposing team's fans during the wave
-The feeling of victory
-and so many, many, many more things....
I already miss this and I can't wait till my extra fall semester. I hope I can find a legit reason to stay, double major??
Penn State Football, you are the love of my life.
First game: Temple? It was the weekend after I moved to PA, I went with my roommate Alex as she was the only person I knew, and we bonded and became friends at this game. It rained cats and dogs but we made a vow that we would never leave a football game a second before the game was over, and till this day we never have.
First Paternoville: Michigan 2006. This is when Alex and I met Alex Cohen, Lebowitz, Bob, Micah, Ian, and Aaron. They let us join their group. I never experienced anything like Paternoville before, I never will again. From that game on we were hooked. We P-Villed again for the other big home game that season.
2007:
This season we Paternovilled almost every game, certainly every game we could, we might have missed two or three. But we became part of Tony's Tribe and we befriended TJ and Mike and Chris and Vanessa and Natalie, but they were a separate section from us. Tony's Tribe was Cohen, Lebo, Aaron, Bob, Ian, Micah, ect...It was awsome.
2008:
Didn't miss Paternoville for one game. It has become a part of college life. We are now AJ's Runaways. TJ, Chris, Vanessa, Natalie, Alex, Bob, Mike, Stephanie, and I. I can't tell you how much fun we had this season and how it breaks my heart to miss the last game of the season.
It kills me that I will miss next season, maybe I should have decided to study abroad in the Spring and soley base this decision on football, it's justified.
Things I won't miss about Paternoville/football:
-Not sleeping for more than two hrs a night, 3-5 nights in a row because it's too damn cold to sleep.
-Sleeping on the cold cement
-Sleeping in a damp/wet tent/sleeping bag because it is raining
-getting up at 8am to move my car from Shields building to Beaver Stadium
-getting up at 6:30am to tear down our tent
-not being able to eat from 8am till 6pm during big games
-The hike from beaver staduim to Stuckman and back, ugh!
-Annoying non-pvillers screaming at 4am during week-long pvilles.
Things I will miss about Paternoville/football:
-Friends
-snuggling in the tent with whoever
-the drums
-chanting hate songs
-creating hate songs (Hey, Austin)
-Mob Mentality (mob chants, ect...)
-Giant food fights
-putting people in the tree
-free food from random people who feel bad for us
-catchphrase
-slip-n-slide
-Africa
-random stadium music that has nothing to do with anything
-yelling at Morelli, or whomever is pissing us off at the moment
-being on the rail (the view!!)
-Chris AKA Spiderman the Cameraman
-Being on the Gumbotron constantly
-PJ, and her fire-twirling batons
-Random blue-band half-time theme
-the "s" zone
-Being tossed when we score
-Passing the lion, and grabbing his ass
-Seeing JoPa on the field
-Zombie Nation
-Tequila!
-Painting Up
-Slow wave and Crack wave
-Booing the opposing team's fans during the wave
-The feeling of victory
-and so many, many, many more things....
I already miss this and I can't wait till my extra fall semester. I hope I can find a legit reason to stay, double major??
Penn State Football, you are the love of my life.
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