Fings Crossed for a Sickly Mac!

Woe is my poor computadora! My little Mac is reall sick due to the download of the new Jay-Z/Kanye album. Curses upon the rapping brilliance that brought down my link to everything technology! It's been 3 days and I'm counting down the hours til he gets revived, whether that be by the peeps at PeachMac or a Craigslist tech man named Steve I looked up. (Steve seems kinda shady though so I'm still shopping around for who to trust with nursing my comp back to life).

For now I am forced to use library computers and that means no watching Boardwalk Empire and small blog posts when I catch a spare moment.

Fings crossed for the littlest Mac to get better. More to come when I'm not technologically handicapped!

The Thirstiest LateNight Burrito Muncher

Went to Milledgeville for a weekend filled with nifty costumes and weird dance moves! 

Visited Nicky and we went to a Neewollah (Halloween) party. Kermit and Ms. Piggy were our choices of attire and, let me tell you, we were a SENSATIONNN. People stopped us on the streets with comments like "Nice choice!" or "You rock it sister". The best were the people that just gave us thumbs up though. It was a silent gesture that said "I would be friends with you because of your costume choice".

We started at an underground bar called "Chops" and I got to see tons of old friends. Reunited and it felt so good. Although I was happy to see some old faces, there was one instance of a girl with reall glossy eye lashes who saw me, stormed over to me, and wrapped me in her lanky embrace. Who was this full-bodied lash queen?  To me, it is still a mystery. After her sloppy attempt at a hug she just kind of wandered off without even a word. One of the thumbs-up street friends we had met earlier? Most likely.

We then went to some other place that had stairs to a balcony that overlooked the whole bar. We were talking and schmoozing with an occasional dance move here and there and my friend Gist dared me to go dance across the balcony. I was feeling the crowd so I went for it. I lanked an impromptu dance across the balcony and for a dramatic finish bound down the stairs with my hands waving in the wind. However, I was so focused on production value that I lost my footing and pulled and Atlanta Grape Lady falling down a couple stairs. Ohh ohh ohh oh ehhh aahh ooh. I twisted my ankle, but I recovered soon enough to not let on that there had been a flaw in the performance.

Later that night I went for some Barberritos. Burritos in my belly? Yes Puhleez. It was my turn to order and the man asked "Beans or Rice?" I am fairly (100percent) certain I said," No beans!"but to my dismay he plopped em right on anyways. Eh, I could live with a few beans. I just wanted food, and fast! As I got to the end at the cash register the girl asked if I would be having a beverage. First of all, beverage is pretentious. Just say drink or soda or something. This is a late night burrito joint for the love of god. Anyways, I replied I'd just like a cup for water and I pointed at the unmarked cups behind the counter. The woman, little mrs. attitude, sasstastically replied "Those cups are only for beer. We only have bottles of water." Uhh whaaat? I was not taking THIS nonsense after the beans incident. So, I went over to the soda fountain and pressed the water button. As it was running down the drain, never to be drunken by any thirsty patron, I asked, "What's this for then?" (I know I was being rude but I had had it). Then the line that really turned me sour: "Those are for daytime customers only" OH NO SHE DID NOT. Like I am not granted the same drinking privileges as daytime eaters. Raadiculous. Absurd. No no. Not Having it.

I was fed up but I was more into the idea of getting fed so I just ate my burrito in bitterness but the next time I'm in Milledgeville if I happen to eat at Barberittos again, I'm gonna give Aleisha, the sassiest employee in all late night eateries, a real piece of my mind. Sidenote: Beans were a nice surprise and the burrito was filling and delicious! 

LunaFish and the Bush Pig

Haven't posted for the past two days cuz I've been reallll sick with strep throat. Ickk. Yes andings all about rolling with life's punches though so even though I sit here sweating bullets from my fever, I have the strength to sit up. translation: I have energy to write.

In recent news, went to orientation for Advertising (got into my major hollaaa) and we walk into the auditorium to meet our advisor. We sit down and this broad-shouldered, hardass in a blue business-woman's jumpsuit yells something to the equivalent of, "I am as serious as my jumpsuit is tight. Fear me." She kept yelling and trying to scare people (I don't know why. I was just so confused.) Sooo at the end, when she asked for any other questions, I raised my hand and inquired: "Why is your email listed as lunafish@uga?" She looked a little thrown off guard but then gave a totally cop-out answer. "Because I wanted to be different" NOT AN ANSWER. the mystery of this lunafish character has begun. Ima get to the bottom of this. Also, I now dubbed this jumpsuit wearer LunaFish because she's scaly on the outside but I bet on the inside she's got a tender spot. Maybe something similar to a good seared ahi tuna or tilapia. Once, we get her to shed those scales, I'm sure like Lil Salsa Bean, she won't be that bad.

Also, skyped with Karrah last night! She's near Brisbane at Port Something-or-Other and she said that the equivalent of a "slut" in Australia is a "Bush Pig" but instead of using it in the negative context they've turned it into something to strive for. To be the wildest, off-the-rocker, most dare-devil of a lank in all the land down under, with accompanying oinking at anything that merits a "Bush Pig" shoutout, of course. Miss her so much and can't wait for her to return so we can "bush pig" around LA for new years.

Hope to get over this sickness fast. Penicillin, here i comeee

A Quarter for Karma

Went to the gym this morning waay early. Typed in my ID number at the turnstile. beep beep boop boop. Access Granted. Groggily stumble down the white-washed corridor to the lockers. Insert my quarter into the locker. Clink clink. Swing my towel over my shoulder. Whoosh. Ready2Go.

As I'm about to enter the weight room, ready for a quick workout so I can get back to snoozing, a distraught girl fumbles to the lockers. She asks if she can use a quarter for the lockers. Being on a one-track mind, Ready2Go, and trained to never give money away I lie: "Sorry only got one!" I walk off and immediately feel a weird sense of guilt. It seemed like second nature for me to keep what was mine and have a "sucks to suck" attitude toward her. My whole workout I think about that girl and, although it wasn't that big of a deal that I didn't part with a quarter, I'm more annoyed that I so easily dismissed someone else's problem when I could of helped so easily.

I started feeling nauseous during the workout (karma at its finest) and called it quits pretty early. As I was walking out, a kid huffed under his breath that he didn't have a quarter. B-I-N-G-O. I thrust a quarter into his hand screaming "A quarter for you, good sir!" Maybe I got a wee bit too aggressive and enthusiastic in my haste to right the wrong(evident by the "A quarter was not worth the spectacle you just made" look he shot me) but, nonetheless, I felt a lot better doing it right the second time.

Yay for getting karma back on yo side.

Wishy-Washy Drizzles

Forgot to write yesterday because of parade shenanigans! Ooops, oh well. Guess I just gotta "yes and" with the punches. It's rainy today, reallll rainy, and I feel kinda like the weather. I need to get out and do something on this overcast Monday soo I'm about to go thrifting with Rosebud and Lucas later. Maybe Ill luck out with a another snazzy Navajo jacket or pair o DrMartens.

The real reason today is a D-R-A-G is because the weather is at an in-between stage. No rain. No snow. No sunshine. It's one of those wishy-washy, bi-polar days of cloudiness, gusts and drizzling. If we had full on rain, the day might still hold potential (puddle-jumpin, popsicle stick racin, raindrop-tongue catchin) but drizzles leave no room for imagination-fueled outside adventures, just suffering under the sporadic weather conditions to reach your next location. Lamesauce. 

Going to limit my sporadic weather suffering after thrifting by going to VisionVid to rent J'ai tué ma mère (I Killed My Mother) by Xavier Dolan, among other random videos that catch my eye (they're a dollaa, hollaaaa). It's that kind of dreary, "wrap me up with some hot cocoa" movie day and, lets be real, any day is a good day for French film. 

Marionette of AntiDuty

As part of a Resident Assistant duty weekend at UGA we're allowed to leave the building on Saturdays either from 7am-Noon or Noon-5pm. Unfortunately, I drew the short end of the straw on this one and was allowed to leave for the morning only. Whattttt-a-drag. I'm usually never up before noon anyways but, forcing myself to "yes and", I decided to get up at 7 in the AM to take full advantage of this measly fate I had chosen...Who knows? Maybe I could even get a cheery tip of the hat from good ole Mr. Sunshine. It'd been a while since I had been awake before him anyways.

So, this morning I suited up for a run. Shoes, bunny ears and burrow through the thicket (I was on one those kids that needed remedial lace tying), shorts, bandana. Being an away game, Athens was a ghost town and I thought it'd be a perfect day to bop around and take in a breathe of the retreating autumn before winter took over.

With Sufjan Stevens at my side, I tip-toed out of the sleeping, dreary dormitory. I stormed down the hill adjacent to my prison cave with food in my sights. Dewy grass blurred to my left and right. Crunch. I hit the gravel then the road, still no souls in sight. As I got into the groove of the run my breath became heavier and my body adjusted to the rhythmic pulsing of the music. Then my favorite part of running happened right about at the crescendo of Promises (I had switched from Sufjan to get a little more WOMP in my stride)  I hit that moment of a run when your mind kinda tunes out everything and your body feels like it's controlled by strings. The music moves you like a marionette. Realllll cathartic. Arm swing, leg swivel, beat, beat, breathe.  Melancholy upbeat acoustic bliss. Weird to try to describe it but it kept me sane for the rest of my duty today.

As I approached the dining hall, the sun gave me a little peeking "how do ya do" from the horizon. I sprinted for my finish and dove into the grass under a sycamore. I laid under the pointy needles of grass, already brittle for winter and gave out a sigh.

Music + NatureRunning= My Antidote to duty..My AntiDUTY.

Prison Cave Adventures

Just settled into the prison cave of Russell for a looong weekend. Got my trusty sidekicks Flaming Hot Cheetos, Kelloggs strawburry Breakfast bars and the Netflix-HBO wonder twins to keep me company.

With our powers combined we can defeat the mountain of dirty laundry suffocating my room, the carpet dust bunnies inhabiting my floor (what I get for purchasing a rug from a sketchman at five points), and Lil Salsa Bean's gift of many Spanish essays to complete.

Also, just talked to Nayjay about taking Sunday morning for me so I can go to the parade and I think its a GO if the GR doesn't mind. Best.News.Ever.

A Laugh-Cry Rainbow

 T-minus 30min until the weekend from hell begins. Oye. Thursday.Friday.Saturday.Sunday...and wait forrrrr ittt. Tuesday, as well, for DUTY!  Really bummed that I couldn't get someone to cover because its Pride in Atlanta this weekend and I woulda ruully liked to go.

The reason I wanted to go so bad this year is because last year was my first year at Pride and it was way different than anticipated.

 Here's why:
I woke up Sunday morning last year feeling like a sleep-deprived, GROGmonster because the day before had been a huge gameday. STRIKE 1.
 I dragged myself out of bed and slumped down the hallway to my friend Natalia's room who was gonna drive (back in the day when i had no wheeelz) She was still sleeping. I waited. 30 more minutes turned into an hour turned into two hours. STRIKE 2.
 We finally were on our way decked out in a vast array of ROY, G, and BIB to good old Atlanta. We were famished from our early morning paint/rainbow deck-out frenzy so naturally we stopped at the finest fried chicken establishment the world has ever seen, Zaxbys, to fuel our festive spirits. Of course, we stop to eat in Backwardsville, USA, chock full of overall enthusiasts and Confederate hailing progressives. We walk in in full rainbow attire and get stares, snickers, points, laughs, and finally, comments. STRIKE 3.

The tension of the group from leaving late, the GROGmonster syndrome, and the bigotry assault of the fine citizens of Winder, GA finally caught up with Natalia, Allie Gupta Keller, and I and by the time we get back to the car we were all bawling. Just straightup crying. Looking back on it, I can't even remember crying for any particular reason. i don't think the "strikes" had even registered with my GROGbrain. The only thing that could register with my body was--cry. The three of us looked at each other, sobbing there in Natalia's little Honda and started hysterically laughing at the same time.

We got to Pride rulll emotionally drained but still bounced around the parade to see all the characters (Dykes on Bikes etc.) Left kinda early. weird day to say the least but at least I can check laugh-crying off the bucket list.

I dont mind not going too bad though. Other cities are bound to have em too and what a good excuse to jetset on another lanky excursion

Blizzard Bonanza

Today was a day full of ice cream gorging and tortilla-humus munchin. Rosebud, Trey and I decided to hit up DQ and Trey went with the Pumpkin Pie Blizzard. Now usually I'm not one to judge on blizzard choices but pumpkin pie flavor? Grosssss. I, of course, went with cookie dough explosion. Obviously the better option, omnomnom.

Hanging out over at Hannahs right now studying for the lamest quiz tomorrow: RA class. ergh. Hannah is a bon giorni gorni ninita and got a carrot-raisin salad at Chic-Fil-A tonight. Lamesauce. 

Recently I feel like I've been talking about food a whole lot. (Already that tired of crumbly omelets and weird pork casserole delights of Bolton dining hall? Furrrshure)

Wilbur the Wonder Car

Today it came to my attention that someone by the riiiiidiculous name of Alexander Georgacopoulos inquired if my sister, Allison, would be interested in trading cars with him. Although I sensed that there was a joking nature to his facebook proposition, it's always better to be safe than sorry. So, I posted back, "Don't you even begin to Allison Moyer, Wilbur is a family heirloom". (Wilbur being the vehicle, nay family member, in question). This asserted my desire for neither of these youngsters to engage in vehicle swappage without directly confronting Mr. Georamagapoopagoopdeedoop for trying to acquire such an important Moyer landmark. 


It's not that my sister/family can't do what they wish with Wilbur (it's not like I actually purchased the old stallion) but I can't see him go. I just can't. We've been through too much and I like the feeling too much of seeing him parked out on our driveway(newer cars booted him from the garage) with his broken 1990-styled bumper and futuristic, automatic seatbelts that never really caught on. 


He was the car I was driven home in the hospital in as a mere babe.


He was the car my sister and I would be driven around for hours in as toddlers in an attempt to get us to fall asleep. (P.S. Never worked. That horrible lullaby cassette would start playing and we would scream our heads off in those booster torture seats until my mother surrendered)


He was the car with the roof that my sister and I angrily poked with our Disney umbrellas until there were a million hole marks (Tom was not a happy camper)


He was the car with the armrests that my sister and I would stand on to stick our munchkin heads out the sunroof to scream "I'm the king of the world" as we drove down our street.

He was the car that me, a 15 year old, pizza-faced, brace-wearer learned how to drive/get speeding tickets in.


Basically, Wilbur has been there throughout Moyer history, before Sir Charles(dog), before Tofu the Wonder Cat. He's been there and he still has a long road ahead with us. PLUS: who would I take to LA with me on my roadtrip this summer if he got traded? My Scion cube? not.a.chance.

Baby Cows ONLY

Worked out today with Anna Banana and got some choco milk afterwards because people keep telling me that chocolate + dairy=post-workout miracle drank. Sipping on that foam-n-bubbly, chocolatey concoction made me start thinking about a discussion the Moyer family once had.

 We were going around the table during the "Good and Bad" portion of the night,  (Tell 1 thing good that happened and 1 bad from the day) Allie and I were suffering through it, waiting for the soonest opportunity to bolt for the computer, lest the other sibling get to Sims first, when my father exclaimed that his "good" was that we now had moved from 2% milk to skim.

 Now, usually I was relatively unresponsive during these Good/Bad exercises because the point was to generate conversation. I was a middle-schooler and conversation with the family was the last thing on my mind but on this instance, I piped up because what.a.ridiculous."good". Changing of the milks was not  legitimate and I was not gonna let Tom slide like that so I said, in a little passive-aggressive rebellion of my own, "We should drink WHOLE milk."

Now, this was at a time when I was willing to contradict anything my father said and this was no exception. He questioned if I had ever even drank whole milk. "Uhh Cheyeah, It's creamy and delicious" I lied. Of course we continued buying skim milk and Tom led on like he believed that I actually LIKED whole milk, not falling for my attempt to bring him into another pointless argument.

If I had been my dad, I would have bought a gallon of whole milk and challenged this lanky little rebel to drink to his heart's content. BUT, that's one thing I appreciate now that my parents did when we were kids. They let us, these sassy munchkins feel like we had power (when really we had none) because sooner or later we'd realize on our own that whole milk is rull rull gross. They let us realize through experience that whole milk is thick, chunky and should be exclusively for baby cows.

Meatloving Crisis

Went to THE GRIT for some finger-licking, too-tasty-too-handle brunch this morning. When we first got there I was informed that The Grit was a vegetarian establishment. Say Whaaaat? That's right, no sliced ham, no turkey burgers, no sausage patties, NO BACON. 

Before raising too much of a ruckus, as any fellow meatlover would do, I looked the menu over. Scanning for something delectable. Nada. Then, I looked up on their hipsteresque chalkboard and saw the specials. Halllelujah, the pepper, goat cheese SpEcIaL omelet saved the day. Oh lord. Instant favorite. Mmmm turns out veggielovers can make a mean brunch too!

Just got a ring from Marmalade and Liza Minnelli (my fraaands Meredith and Liza) and we're going to North Campus to play board games outside. Only the classics: Chutes and Ladders, Candyland etc. Why, you may ask? No se. But when the opportunity to hang out with these Theta babes arises I jump on it rullll fast cuz I never see them!

Later, going to help Lucas paint his huge canvas today. I think we're going to tie it up between two trees in a field (location TBA) because iz way too big to paint indoors. I also might bring a little canvas to paint the Citizen Cope album cover.

Perfect sunny Athens day for canvas splatta-painting and taking a walk down "board-game memory lane"

Bee Busy

Went to the game today for kickoff then left right after. Too hot. Sor Boring.

Listening to some more Yelle right now to help me rally for the night. I can't get enough of French music and film right now. There's something about the language that's better than anything I've ever heard before. Yeah I love speaking Espanol and its practical but Francias just trumps it and I can't tell why. If I could have any accent it would definitely be French mmm.

 I was supposed to go to a study abroad meeting last night at 8:30pm but their office closes at 5? So I need to call them if I'm going to schedule the Cannes Film Festival and Buenos Aires for a year #GonnaBeBroke

Looking forward to next week when I'll have more time to write/read Tina's masterpiece/paint Citizen Cope's album art

College is exhausting. Byeeee