The blonde, horse-lovin temptress is in Athens! a.k.a. Corinne Palmer. She just arrived for a night of mayhem and im ecstatic, to say the least. Getting ready to go out right now and she just convinced me to go to GA-FL for Halloween and offered her Queen-sized bed for all of my sleeping needs. Definitely gonna wear the baby-gma costume to that affair.
Mississippi State v UGA game tomorrow wooot wooot. Only been to one game this semester so kinda pumped. Maybe we'll be able to scalp a tick for Corinne tomorrow. fings crossed.
Bout to head out so ima bounce.
Classic City---Watch outt.
Friday, September 30, 2011
Thursday, September 29, 2011
Salsa Rambles
About to go watch a Spanish movie at the Georgia Museum of Art for Lil Salsa Bean's class!
Recently, it's been pretty entertaining to watch her teach class. She has such a "lust for life", quirky, story-telling teaching style that I never want to miss out on.(Perf Attendance hollaaa). If I'm half as lively when I'm her age, I'll be lucky fasho.
Today, she talked to herself (and anyone who could keep up) for 30 minutes about random Athens ongoings, Obama, recipes for gespacho, and one time when she kissed a man who was not her husband(awkward?) In her mile-a-minute ramblings she constantly switched between Spanish and English. I couldn't believe how fast she could transition from one to the other, and back again. Made me so excited for Buenos Aires next year! (My study abroad meeting is tomorrow w0oot wooot)
Also, I know the way I keep portraying her makes her sound waaay loca but she's not. (Ok, maybe a wee bit) but she's so GUIA(cool en espanol) Can't wait to see her with her little husband. Mannnn, Spanish people are the best (especially Barcelonians).
Recently, it's been pretty entertaining to watch her teach class. She has such a "lust for life", quirky, story-telling teaching style that I never want to miss out on.(Perf Attendance hollaaa). If I'm half as lively when I'm her age, I'll be lucky fasho.
Today, she talked to herself (and anyone who could keep up) for 30 minutes about random Athens ongoings, Obama, recipes for gespacho, and one time when she kissed a man who was not her husband(awkward?) In her mile-a-minute ramblings she constantly switched between Spanish and English. I couldn't believe how fast she could transition from one to the other, and back again. Made me so excited for Buenos Aires next year! (My study abroad meeting is tomorrow w0oot wooot)
Also, I know the way I keep portraying her makes her sound waaay loca but she's not. (Ok, maybe a wee bit) but she's so GUIA(cool en espanol) Can't wait to see her with her little husband. Mannnn, Spanish people are the best (especially Barcelonians).
Wednesday, September 28, 2011
Apple Tidbit Annoyances
To be honest, I have been in quite the little funk recently (RA duty calling me at 4 in da AM, Lil Salsa Bean giving me 'tude, my phone being a text message blackhole, and just an overall feeling of blah for still living in the dorms)
So, today, feeling down in the dumps and listening to the New Pornographes Challengers album on my way to class, I looked in my mailbox and discovered Tina Fey's humor-bound masterpiece. However, because I wasn't feeling too hot I tossed it in my backpack for later. Big mistake, huge. On a usual day, anything Tina Fey would have been top priority, trumping all things from social interaction to sleep. What I SHOULD have done is found a comfy chair, locked the door, and dove in.
Fast-forward to after class, weary, with a now amplified case of the blues due to an added workload. In need of food, I dragged my body to the nearest dining hall, BLOWtron, and proceeded to indulge in the greasiest of foods. In between one of my cheeseburger chomps, I caught a glimpse of the portrait of Tina Fey with hairy-man arms on the cover of "Bossypants". I had been looking for a pick-me-up all day and it finally dawned on me that she might have some potential. I picked it up and before even opening the book was rolling with laughter. The synopsis and praise for the book on the outside cover, alone, were enough to make me hysterical. I digested the first chapter, then the next, and before I knew it a weight was lifted off my shoulders. Tina had done it again.
Feeling better already (Laughter really is the best medicine) I grabbed an apple and bounded down the stairs to meet my friend Anna Banana for coffee. Nom'ing on that Granny Smith delight, I accidentally bit off more than I could chew and got some apple skin wedged in my pearly whites. Rats! Now I would have pesky apple bits in my mouth all day. I was getting frustrated with each failed attempt to dislodge the apple bits with my tongue but then I realized something. I LOVE APPLES. And even though, from time to time, there'll be some bad bites, some apple tidbits that stick around, I still get to enjoy the great bites. The melt in your mouth ones that are enjoyed without interruption and that happen more often than not.
With this optimistic view in my sights, I trotted off to coffee, ignoring any annoyances that would try to get in the way of me and my apple.
So, today, feeling down in the dumps and listening to the New Pornographes Challengers album on my way to class, I looked in my mailbox and discovered Tina Fey's humor-bound masterpiece. However, because I wasn't feeling too hot I tossed it in my backpack for later. Big mistake, huge. On a usual day, anything Tina Fey would have been top priority, trumping all things from social interaction to sleep. What I SHOULD have done is found a comfy chair, locked the door, and dove in.
Fast-forward to after class, weary, with a now amplified case of the blues due to an added workload. In need of food, I dragged my body to the nearest dining hall, BLOWtron, and proceeded to indulge in the greasiest of foods. In between one of my cheeseburger chomps, I caught a glimpse of the portrait of Tina Fey with hairy-man arms on the cover of "Bossypants". I had been looking for a pick-me-up all day and it finally dawned on me that she might have some potential. I picked it up and before even opening the book was rolling with laughter. The synopsis and praise for the book on the outside cover, alone, were enough to make me hysterical. I digested the first chapter, then the next, and before I knew it a weight was lifted off my shoulders. Tina had done it again.
Feeling better already (Laughter really is the best medicine) I grabbed an apple and bounded down the stairs to meet my friend Anna Banana for coffee. Nom'ing on that Granny Smith delight, I accidentally bit off more than I could chew and got some apple skin wedged in my pearly whites. Rats! Now I would have pesky apple bits in my mouth all day. I was getting frustrated with each failed attempt to dislodge the apple bits with my tongue but then I realized something. I LOVE APPLES. And even though, from time to time, there'll be some bad bites, some apple tidbits that stick around, I still get to enjoy the great bites. The melt in your mouth ones that are enjoyed without interruption and that happen more often than not.
With this optimistic view in my sights, I trotted off to coffee, ignoring any annoyances that would try to get in the way of me and my apple.
Tuesday, September 27, 2011
GQ Munchkin
Like I said before, persuasion was the name of the game for me as a kid. However, there were some instances persuasion just wouldn't cut it. For these special situations I would adopt a Carpe Omnia (Seize Everything), "my way or the highway" attitude with my parents. But could they have really known any better than to submit to my every wish? After all, I was the first-born.
Apparently, the first-born is a big deal. THAT baby is the one that gets a bunch of randommm shit from wide-eyed, Catholic grandparents who are ever so hopeful that more are on the way. THAT baby doesn't know it yet but they're about to be the one who is scrubbed, gorged, tickled, pampered, poked and experimented on by self-conscious, sleep-deprived first timers.
In my house, I was no exception and one thing my mom went bonkers for was dressing me up. Vests, trendy miniature hairstyles, and corduroys were among the many things my mother tried out on me and I went along with it like the drooling, powerless mooky that I was.
One day, the miniature version of me caught on and realized what was happening: I had become my mother's accessory. A baby dressed just perfectly to compliment every outfit. I eventually glanced at myself in the mirror and saw, for the first time, what my mother saw: A portable, GQ munchkin. That day I determined one thing: the baby fashion madness had to end. Realizing what I had become was the hard part. Everything else, from that point forward, was easy as pie. I simply put on my munchkin sweatpants that my mother had so conveniently placed in the back of my closet and waited. When Kelly came in with Baby Gap bags, I knew what I had to do. I held onto my sweatpants for dear life. When Kelly tried to dress me while still incorporating the sweatpants I wriggled free. I never saw another Baby Gap bag and ceased wearing all clothing with buttons, snaps, zippers, and ties. Elastic and velcro became my staples and I was happy as a clam.
For some reason, my sister was plighted by the same dress-the-baby-up fever of my mother. However, my sister was subject to many more outfits sported on many more outings than I had been. The reason my mother turned up the heat this time around? Maybe because my sister was the first girl. More likely, was the fact that I had established that there was no longer any hope for me to be categorized as a "trendy baby" and my sister was the last hope, the final frontier.
In any case, my sister soon caught on, as I had years before, only this time her reaction was to wear a hand-me-down dress from our cousin Dana for two weeks straight. She slept in it, played in it, and, to my knowledge, even bathed in it.
How my parents dealt with the most stubborn monkeys east of the Mississippi still boggles me. I can only hope any future monkeys to come won't follow in our footsteps.
Apparently, the first-born is a big deal. THAT baby is the one that gets a bunch of randommm shit from wide-eyed, Catholic grandparents who are ever so hopeful that more are on the way. THAT baby doesn't know it yet but they're about to be the one who is scrubbed, gorged, tickled, pampered, poked and experimented on by self-conscious, sleep-deprived first timers.
In my house, I was no exception and one thing my mom went bonkers for was dressing me up. Vests, trendy miniature hairstyles, and corduroys were among the many things my mother tried out on me and I went along with it like the drooling, powerless mooky that I was.
One day, the miniature version of me caught on and realized what was happening: I had become my mother's accessory. A baby dressed just perfectly to compliment every outfit. I eventually glanced at myself in the mirror and saw, for the first time, what my mother saw: A portable, GQ munchkin. That day I determined one thing: the baby fashion madness had to end. Realizing what I had become was the hard part. Everything else, from that point forward, was easy as pie. I simply put on my munchkin sweatpants that my mother had so conveniently placed in the back of my closet and waited. When Kelly came in with Baby Gap bags, I knew what I had to do. I held onto my sweatpants for dear life. When Kelly tried to dress me while still incorporating the sweatpants I wriggled free. I never saw another Baby Gap bag and ceased wearing all clothing with buttons, snaps, zippers, and ties. Elastic and velcro became my staples and I was happy as a clam.
For some reason, my sister was plighted by the same dress-the-baby-up fever of my mother. However, my sister was subject to many more outfits sported on many more outings than I had been. The reason my mother turned up the heat this time around? Maybe because my sister was the first girl. More likely, was the fact that I had established that there was no longer any hope for me to be categorized as a "trendy baby" and my sister was the last hope, the final frontier.
In any case, my sister soon caught on, as I had years before, only this time her reaction was to wear a hand-me-down dress from our cousin Dana for two weeks straight. She slept in it, played in it, and, to my knowledge, even bathed in it.
How my parents dealt with the most stubborn monkeys east of the Mississippi still boggles me. I can only hope any future monkeys to come won't follow in our footsteps.
Monday, September 26, 2011
A Longing to Be Spoiled Rotten
Looking back on my childhood years at 2820 Chapman Way, there is one thing of which I can be certain: My sister and I had a knack for persuasion.
While most of the early 90s blur into Super Smash Bro'ing, trampoline bounding, sunny days, for some reason, the ploys of persuasion cooked up by Allison and I remain vivid in my memory.
Before my baby sister was even capable of consuming solid foods, let alone developing and executing a successful siege strategy on the minds, hearts, and pocketbooks of my parents, I planted a tiny seed of persuasion in her little baby head. It was a typical day in suburbia and the sister and I were laying on the "oh-so-90s" linoleum kitchen floor. It was too Georgia-hot to play outside so I offered that we play with my new Pokemon cards while absorbing what little coolness we could from that sticky, kitchen surface.
During this time, I was on a huge Pokemon binge. (cards, gameboy games, tv shows, THE WORKS) Later on, I would even attempt to convince my father to buy me a special edition Charizard for 40 dollars. Obviously, a petition to spend 40 dollars on a piece of cardboard was squashed instantly by Tom. (I'm good, but not THAT good.)
Anyways, I didn't even really know the rules of Pokemon card battling so I thought to myself..Bingo! I can make the rules up as I go along. #winning. Sooo, I came up with some crazy, I'm-not-even-following my-own-rules system and in the end convinced my sister that 1. my Pikachu had rocked her Squirtle's shit, 2. that she had lost at a legitimate Pokemon battle, and 3. that I was the champion of Pokemoning.
You could tell by the expression on my little sister's face that she was peeved about losing a game of trickery where rules could form anytime, about anything. But it was more than that. Something in the way her youthful brow wrinkled in astonishment said, "I want in on how to be tricky", " "I want the formula to #winning"
From that day forward, I took her under my wing as my apprentice in persuasion, my cohort in charisma. And together we waged war against the "we don't want to spoil you" psyches of our parents. Don't spoil us?? We were determined to be spoiled rotten, it was just a matter of PERSUASION.
While most of the early 90s blur into Super Smash Bro'ing, trampoline bounding, sunny days, for some reason, the ploys of persuasion cooked up by Allison and I remain vivid in my memory.
Before my baby sister was even capable of consuming solid foods, let alone developing and executing a successful siege strategy on the minds, hearts, and pocketbooks of my parents, I planted a tiny seed of persuasion in her little baby head. It was a typical day in suburbia and the sister and I were laying on the "oh-so-90s" linoleum kitchen floor. It was too Georgia-hot to play outside so I offered that we play with my new Pokemon cards while absorbing what little coolness we could from that sticky, kitchen surface.
During this time, I was on a huge Pokemon binge. (cards, gameboy games, tv shows, THE WORKS) Later on, I would even attempt to convince my father to buy me a special edition Charizard for 40 dollars. Obviously, a petition to spend 40 dollars on a piece of cardboard was squashed instantly by Tom. (I'm good, but not THAT good.)
Anyways, I didn't even really know the rules of Pokemon card battling so I thought to myself..Bingo! I can make the rules up as I go along. #winning. Sooo, I came up with some crazy, I'm-not-even-following my-own-rules system and in the end convinced my sister that 1. my Pikachu had rocked her Squirtle's shit, 2. that she had lost at a legitimate Pokemon battle, and 3. that I was the champion of Pokemoning.
You could tell by the expression on my little sister's face that she was peeved about losing a game of trickery where rules could form anytime, about anything. But it was more than that. Something in the way her youthful brow wrinkled in astonishment said, "I want in on how to be tricky", " "I want the formula to #winning"
From that day forward, I took her under my wing as my apprentice in persuasion, my cohort in charisma. And together we waged war against the "we don't want to spoil you" psyches of our parents. Don't spoil us?? We were determined to be spoiled rotten, it was just a matter of PERSUASION.
Sunday, September 25, 2011
Rope Swing Kaboomin
Went kayaking today with my hall of freshmen (I'm an RA) and feeling sor sorrr dead and sore right about now. The river was way shallow. Translation: lots o getting shipwrecked, tryna scoot the rest of the way, and, finally, surrendering to the mighty low-tide of the Middle Oconee River by walking the kayak to deeper, more promising waters.
Also, shallow waters meant NO rope swing :( a.k.a. no swinging, trapezing, free-falling, or splash kaboomin.
It turned out alright though because we still went on the rope, there was just no rope-to-water action. Instead we swung out, ran on the water, and tumbled back onto dry land. #crouchingtigerhiddendragon. At first, the prospect of swinging on a rope with no icy cold-water destination seemed pointless but once Romik went for it I had to Yes And him and so glad I did.
All-in-all, pretty solid nature immersing, paddle slappin, sketch limo riding (the vehicle to the kayak deployment site) day.
Also, and this is a huge also, Boardwalk Empire Season 2 premiered tonight. My Sundays just got a whole lot saucier.
Also, shallow waters meant NO rope swing :( a.k.a. no swinging, trapezing, free-falling, or splash kaboomin.
It turned out alright though because we still went on the rope, there was just no rope-to-water action. Instead we swung out, ran on the water, and tumbled back onto dry land. #crouchingtigerhiddendragon. At first, the prospect of swinging on a rope with no icy cold-water destination seemed pointless but once Romik went for it I had to Yes And him and so glad I did.
All-in-all, pretty solid nature immersing, paddle slappin, sketch limo riding (the vehicle to the kayak deployment site) day.
Also, and this is a huge also, Boardwalk Empire Season 2 premiered tonight. My Sundays just got a whole lot saucier.
Saturday, September 24, 2011
Tome Time
Restarted Water for Elephants by Sara Gruen today. The first time around I got through the first 100 pages and was like errr nexttttt. It felt like I was being stampeded by an elephant hoard of wordy descriptions but wasn't moving anywhere plot-wise.
Wellllllll this time around I was prepared for Gruen's verbose, dramatic style and, to be honest, I'm kinda diggin it. Looking back now, I don't think the problem for me was that it was too wordy. I think the thing is, is that Gruen, like the circus train Jacob jumps on, takes some time before she picks up speed. At first there were secrets kept from the reader and sequences of nursing home ongoings(exciting!) but now that I'm into the meat of the book, the Gruen Express is chug-a-luggin at full speed. Can't wait for more
Also, just bought Tina Fey's BossyPants, Hunter Thompson's The Rum Diaries, and the oh-so-appropriate tome for any YesAnder, Sara Lewis Holmes' Operation Yes.
#NewBooksOnDeck
Wellllllll this time around I was prepared for Gruen's verbose, dramatic style and, to be honest, I'm kinda diggin it. Looking back now, I don't think the problem for me was that it was too wordy. I think the thing is, is that Gruen, like the circus train Jacob jumps on, takes some time before she picks up speed. At first there were secrets kept from the reader and sequences of nursing home ongoings(exciting!) but now that I'm into the meat of the book, the Gruen Express is chug-a-luggin at full speed. Can't wait for more
Also, just bought Tina Fey's BossyPants, Hunter Thompson's The Rum Diaries, and the oh-so-appropriate tome for any YesAnder, Sara Lewis Holmes' Operation Yes.
#NewBooksOnDeck
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