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.
Friday, October 7, 2011
Thursday, October 6, 2011
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
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
Wednesday, October 5, 2011
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)
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)
Tuesday, October 4, 2011
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.
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.
Monday, October 3, 2011
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.
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.
Sunday, October 2, 2011
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"
Saturday, October 1, 2011
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
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
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