tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-76251331652484355122024-03-19T00:44:06.561-04:00des saysDesire'http://www.blogger.com/profile/04283153571720955489noreply@blogger.comBlogger29125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7625133165248435512.post-68753370757338083882014-02-11T17:24:00.002-05:002014-02-15T12:45:31.580-05:00Desiré Tries To Do Stuff: Paleo<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
I've hit plenty of lows in my adult life. There was the time my dad tried to set me up with a Harry Potter look-a-like ("What's wrong? I thought you liked Harry Potter!"), the summer I was so broke that I strongly considered working on the <a href="http://www.tumblebus.com/whatis.htm" target="_blank">Tumblebus</a> (a child's gym on wheels -- AKA a death trap), and the time I went to a concert with my mom and every college aged male around us proceeded to hit on her while I took long, sorrowful sips of my strawberry margarita out of an extra large guitar-shaped sippy cup.</div>
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But it was the new low I hit when I was visiting my friends Patrick and Chad at my alma mater in Charlottesville last month that made me realize I should probably reevaluate my life. There are only two things to do when you return to Charlottesville: eat and drink. So after a hearty dinner of enchiladas and a night of bar hopping, I was determined to hit up my favorite late night eateries from undergrad. Since the <a href="http://www.readthehook.com/files/old/blog/wp-content/uploads/2009/04/dish-lastcalldogs-325x243.jpg" target="_blank">Last Call Dogs</a> food truck was nowhere in sight, my options were narrowed down to two: <a href="http://www.choppedonion.com/sitebuildercontent/sitebuilderpictures/webassets/DSC_01138661DSC_01132010-07-16WhiteSpot.JPG" target="_blank">The White Spot</a>, home of the famous "Gus Burger" topped with a fried egg, or <a href="http://www.urbanspoon.com/r/108/853095/restaurant/Christians-Pizza-Charlottesville" target="_blank">Christian's Pizza</a>, the best pizza in all the land. Patrick and I opted to go to Christian's while Chad and Cari went to The White Spot.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me, Julia, Nick, and Laura flashing the "extra mozz" hand signal.</td></tr>
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The Christian's run down is that they have a variety of pizzas already made and you simply go down the line, pick the slice you want and they warm it up in the oven for you. But one life-changing night in undergrad, my friends and I discovered that the pizza maestro would smother your slice in extra mozzarella if you asked nicely. This wasn't a secret everybody was privy to, so it didn't take long for us to establish the "extra mozz" hand signal to flash to the maestro when we ordered our slices. With one flick of the wrist, we were like elite members of a speakeasy for late-night cuisine.<br />
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So while waiting in line with Patrick, I decided it was time to bring the "extra mozz" hand signal out of retirement. Sure, it's pretty much a creepy claw in which you wiggle your fingers, but it got the job done. While waiting in line with Patrick, I also thought it was a good idea to text Chad over at The White Spot, "Git me a Gus Burg," which is how I wound up eating both a slice of pizza and an egg-topped burger at 3 a.m.<br />
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I woke up full (but not too full to eat brunch, of course) and decided that maybe it would be in my best interest to start eating healthier. I settled on the Whole30 Challenge -- a Paleo-based 30 day cleanse. This wasn't an easy decision. After all, I had only used my Wendy's Free-Frostys-For-A-Year card twice and the Whole30 meant no dairy, no wheat, no processed food, no sugar, no alcohol. I had tried Paleo before and two hours in I caved and ate a cupcake, so I knew the odds were against me.<br />
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I started out slowly. Eggs and fruit for breakfast, a salad tossed in oil and vinegar for lunch, a meat paired with a veggie for dinner. "This isn't too bad," I thought. And then I tried to switch it up and start cooking. The words "creative" and "kitchen" don't jive well with me, so I'm not sure why I thought I could pull any of this off.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">YUM BURN.<br />
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First I tried to cook sweet potato fries.<br />
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Next, I tried to make turkey wraps without the wrap...<br />
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But they creeped me out, so I added lettuce...<br />
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And then I made "garlic mayo" which was the consistency of what I imagine breast milk to be. Needless to say, that's still sitting uneaten in the back of my fridge.<br />
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Next I tried to make an apple cobbler for dessert.<br />
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Facing the fact that I simply cannot cook, I went back to making my boring old eggs.<br />
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But look closely. Yes, that is a rather large bubble protruding from that yolk.<br />
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A few nights later, I actually succeeded in making <a href="http://www.freckleditalian.com/" target="_blank">Megan</a>'s <a href="http://consideringyou.com/recipes/jalapeno-kale-with-bacon/" target="_blank">Jalapeno Kale Miracle</a>, but not without some trouble. I washed my hands at least three times after slicing the jalapenos. Approximately four hours later, I went to take my contacts out before bed. I pulled my contact out of my right eye and my eye immediately started burning. "WHYYY?!!" I threw my contact down on the counter. I took my contact out of my left eye and it started burning "WHAT IS HAPPENING?!!" I threw that contact down on the counter. I turned the faucet on and used my fingers to splash water in my already burning eyes, only to be met with more burn. "AHHH!" It was like the outtakes from <i>Home Alone</i> in my bathroom. The next day, I ended up putting my contacts in the opposite eyes because I mixed them up during my jalapeno eye fiasco.<br />
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Maybe I should quit trying to do stuff.Desire'http://www.blogger.com/profile/04283153571720955489noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7625133165248435512.post-16652761800590528412014-01-07T15:04:00.001-05:002014-01-07T15:04:45.794-05:00<a href="http://www.bloglovin.com/blog/1960017/?claim=ad5u93uktva">Follow my blog with Bloglovin</a>Desire'http://www.blogger.com/profile/04283153571720955489noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7625133165248435512.post-20116545427877435872014-01-06T23:50:00.003-05:002014-01-07T00:35:18.430-05:00Here I Am<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Hi friends,</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">So it's been a while (oops). Here's what I've been up to for the past year and a half:</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjffSbKQaKOOk6IduSSfR3yIzvn8BDZKAKasRcMcGItC__m6cwZY2hq7gmenUhxf-jZYz9XnueBqo96ch4Pt_a14ObKRoXVZ-CNh7I7NOECGOcLdEf1DsMC8KPf36kZMshxrCoVOvJq2vI/s1600/267267_10100635007017656_754728455_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjffSbKQaKOOk6IduSSfR3yIzvn8BDZKAKasRcMcGItC__m6cwZY2hq7gmenUhxf-jZYz9XnueBqo96ch4Pt_a14ObKRoXVZ-CNh7I7NOECGOcLdEf1DsMC8KPf36kZMshxrCoVOvJq2vI/s1600/267267_10100635007017656_754728455_n.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></span></a><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I resigned from my job in Charlottesville and moved to Washington, D.C. to begin a Journalism Master's program at Georgetown. In true city fashion, I rented a studio apartment in the heart of downtown. It had a single window, which featured a prime view of this parking lot and banana mobile.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYrPj1946UjIeT37EgwrNOEWHsUx0yv2CjuBJja5xUphilzIi7dN9LBXrr5XYStQ2RProi92MPd-1x3CSWToOnjjM2kKe4Me8UdO_YG4YzcwauelLJzNyRiWCW018Oj0n45NfPw1WsUF4/s1600/521528_10100834749636846_1566614103_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYrPj1946UjIeT37EgwrNOEWHsUx0yv2CjuBJja5xUphilzIi7dN9LBXrr5XYStQ2RProi92MPd-1x3CSWToOnjjM2kKe4Me8UdO_YG4YzcwauelLJzNyRiWCW018Oj0n45NfPw1WsUF4/s1600/521528_10100834749636846_1566614103_n.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">While I unpacked and tried to settle into the new apartment, my demon cat, Roux, did this.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXrbmzCfI5_ZdJUOxBXjrcT2yqzIllYO_7Ps_hthqeTjtE-m9LwUQzePWw3SkmHJkVhZR2hRZ3yCK5mGzCUbi9kbpxHsS4O2Zo3DVQTE_hXKPAdTURyjv-Kinj_HMdb4D9JQQpE9BE320/s1600/1452563_10101209225524166_1306294137_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXrbmzCfI5_ZdJUOxBXjrcT2yqzIllYO_7Ps_hthqeTjtE-m9LwUQzePWw3SkmHJkVhZR2hRZ3yCK5mGzCUbi9kbpxHsS4O2Zo3DVQTE_hXKPAdTURyjv-Kinj_HMdb4D9JQQpE9BE320/s1600/1452563_10101209225524166_1306294137_n.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></span></a><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Always looking for new things to do, I went to the "drive-in" near my apartment, which was a movie projected onto the side of a renovated warehouse. But I forgot the wine key...</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHmoj3z9tzcqNYKyUgtctw9xfiSVhyphenhyphen0HtEa2YdbvrFIp63P83t4K_g2oyOzLOThx4z-TDI7xjQEnyyocKNMAUwx2UOj87G5KT6jOLhXO84AtJ9E7FxMhWDzlzB7NihlC9GqpCf8FWhO7w/s1600/1455839_10101210772319376_763668948_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHmoj3z9tzcqNYKyUgtctw9xfiSVhyphenhyphen0HtEa2YdbvrFIp63P83t4K_g2oyOzLOThx4z-TDI7xjQEnyyocKNMAUwx2UOj87G5KT6jOLhXO84AtJ9E7FxMhWDzlzB7NihlC9GqpCf8FWhO7w/s1600/1455839_10101210772319376_763668948_n.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I explored new restaurants with friends and when gratuity was included, if our server did a good job, we tipped them a little sumthin' extra.</span></div>
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I joined a pretty serious band. Clanky D & Tha Whistlas, anyone?</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRo9-XWFEvbplCgTapBUrrtJRTNbu6RC1C0XUF835d2PFPVnHurikh2WS0tIdX24uCSNFv2ZHY0K1NXT3NPgErV81FuaPIGgAsaAZ5t0W4OKYyAQx2DmvzokT-lVeU6kITBRkA2C0kwEc/s1600/390564_10100224238071916_1768872765_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRo9-XWFEvbplCgTapBUrrtJRTNbu6RC1C0XUF835d2PFPVnHurikh2WS0tIdX24uCSNFv2ZHY0K1NXT3NPgErV81FuaPIGgAsaAZ5t0W4OKYyAQx2DmvzokT-lVeU6kITBRkA2C0kwEc/s1600/390564_10100224238071916_1768872765_n.jpg" height="320" style="cursor: move;" width="240" /></a><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">And a hip-hop duo. Dr. Dray and Kimbaland dropping beats in a city near you.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghRG8LQQ9mUZw9C0t950UoTh9kDFlkXfKCkGOuTRnGKoAWBKV9As5Up5zPoVm9Aon6U1Es9egikrJsZ_Beb92WTxwZ8mmoGQx37oQFuanksYG2jlaOUKIkwARR9A44Jt7XKNSXQbHjioo/s1600/16292_10100832724395446_261809638_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghRG8LQQ9mUZw9C0t950UoTh9kDFlkXfKCkGOuTRnGKoAWBKV9As5Up5zPoVm9Aon6U1Es9egikrJsZ_Beb92WTxwZ8mmoGQx37oQFuanksYG2jlaOUKIkwARR9A44Jt7XKNSXQbHjioo/s1600/16292_10100832724395446_261809638_n.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I drank copious amounts of coffee, but only poured my cream out of a Tupac shot glass.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRo9-XWFEvbplCgTapBUrrtJRTNbu6RC1C0XUF835d2PFPVnHurikh2WS0tIdX24uCSNFv2ZHY0K1NXT3NPgErV81FuaPIGgAsaAZ5t0W4OKYyAQx2DmvzokT-lVeU6kITBRkA2C0kwEc/s1600/390564_10100224238071916_1768872765_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"></span></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVMz0jAq07BrunaVZxEGdCkNF4g9JNA6J5YqnZy7Ui2lK9CS4x2aQQGrDGEdypWvldSH53wEfe-CLgkeXqbzjSYOCy9BTSTXfiPm3kCRRJkpsmtifJYPJBf2TrY5LcyxPOotYdGfYobPI/s1600/946395_10101130810623256_1895110573_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVMz0jAq07BrunaVZxEGdCkNF4g9JNA6J5YqnZy7Ui2lK9CS4x2aQQGrDGEdypWvldSH53wEfe-CLgkeXqbzjSYOCy9BTSTXfiPm3kCRRJkpsmtifJYPJBf2TrY5LcyxPOotYdGfYobPI/s1600/946395_10101130810623256_1895110573_n.jpg" /></a><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"> In D.C., they sound it out.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjA9wxy4EEEmfOmcmS6z1gng8r4L27DRXEp-dZUfulq2yBCImePxlY9cegAq70vMTGYz-zYa1by9FZuH5bnklk9k8hcIZtQMT1VPciZ76ukoab17t9r0d-8V4rddmkWtJIJy7NZUwzc300/s1600/1374925_10101137707367126_2050686463_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjA9wxy4EEEmfOmcmS6z1gng8r4L27DRXEp-dZUfulq2yBCImePxlY9cegAq70vMTGYz-zYa1by9FZuH5bnklk9k8hcIZtQMT1VPciZ76ukoab17t9r0d-8V4rddmkWtJIJy7NZUwzc300/s1600/1374925_10101137707367126_2050686463_n.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Tired of sitting with Roux and staring out of my one window at the banana mobile, I moved into a bigger apartment with a roommate. My roommate got tired of staring at my apartment troll garb and bought a nice pair of satin pajamas for me.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNc-0ThgVREzvY9YoNO5OTIgUAAeHq6iSCXIj2kY3FzAB9FzIOYDohpnjw7-6dbs0LwClO3sbZaCKqyyHYxJROeN0xEcKIXClVdZZy_-Es9OeUeymO3SM-8Nt6-WWGku7hiOMlbeIxrSA/s1600/267919_10100835660830806_232857560_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNc-0ThgVREzvY9YoNO5OTIgUAAeHq6iSCXIj2kY3FzAB9FzIOYDohpnjw7-6dbs0LwClO3sbZaCKqyyHYxJROeN0xEcKIXClVdZZy_-Es9OeUeymO3SM-8Nt6-WWGku7hiOMlbeIxrSA/s1600/267919_10100835660830806_232857560_n.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I picked up new hobbies, like collecting novelty salt and pepper shakers.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAJQV5d-X6VBwEKH4Ux8HJ1p3iP7pNSNhej5EEV7Nnor4Hi-zrltQy2tAd1vlGrMdoS3I5iiIgkhyoRue2Hj4R4LFONR9g3N1ALg1_QH-AwWGh7Q_RHM_oIXl2WFDZIIF4EXb9liSdYpA/s1600/36490_10100770127255616_386719803_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAJQV5d-X6VBwEKH4Ux8HJ1p3iP7pNSNhej5EEV7Nnor4Hi-zrltQy2tAd1vlGrMdoS3I5iiIgkhyoRue2Hj4R4LFONR9g3N1ALg1_QH-AwWGh7Q_RHM_oIXl2WFDZIIF4EXb9liSdYpA/s1600/36490_10100770127255616_386719803_n.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I went out to dinner with Sarah, and she ordered a platter of Fancy Feast cat food. Or Spam. You decide.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlbZmnZBZTkkzNO8cOVqeWlr39cVeF7dD4NgeRkXM_r7K6NoSQFKqSxQdy9Ty9eQn7Of7C9wW9HL3nJCJXO6MBxGx11BulyefF9PObrFVvVjvK1E0A6qZnF9LilXTHij-qTUmoofWmxOk/s1600/1452010_10101194618242276_1290425816_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlbZmnZBZTkkzNO8cOVqeWlr39cVeF7dD4NgeRkXM_r7K6NoSQFKqSxQdy9Ty9eQn7Of7C9wW9HL3nJCJXO6MBxGx11BulyefF9PObrFVvVjvK1E0A6qZnF9LilXTHij-qTUmoofWmxOk/s1600/1452010_10101194618242276_1290425816_n.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Halloween came and I dressed up as Roux.</span><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEik6I4C3EOwZFj3ufwpEjOIzeX8lLSB-oJKWb7_7YHIB4bzq3V0iaxZps7VHcbelm2iEKE8_2fvc2oV3qoyGGJW6SEuqko7uiGS3mY8JKGw4xN9W-EHwjr0JZz855cu9dRY5V0VNtenIk4/s1600/528623_10100596723158816_1290779181_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEik6I4C3EOwZFj3ufwpEjOIzeX8lLSB-oJKWb7_7YHIB4bzq3V0iaxZps7VHcbelm2iEKE8_2fvc2oV3qoyGGJW6SEuqko7uiGS3mY8JKGw4xN9W-EHwjr0JZz855cu9dRY5V0VNtenIk4/s1600/528623_10100596723158816_1290779181_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEik6I4C3EOwZFj3ufwpEjOIzeX8lLSB-oJKWb7_7YHIB4bzq3V0iaxZps7VHcbelm2iEKE8_2fvc2oV3qoyGGJW6SEuqko7uiGS3mY8JKGw4xN9W-EHwjr0JZz855cu9dRY5V0VNtenIk4/s1600/528623_10100596723158816_1290779181_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></a><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEik6I4C3EOwZFj3ufwpEjOIzeX8lLSB-oJKWb7_7YHIB4bzq3V0iaxZps7VHcbelm2iEKE8_2fvc2oV3qoyGGJW6SEuqko7uiGS3mY8JKGw4xN9W-EHwjr0JZz855cu9dRY5V0VNtenIk4/s1600/528623_10100596723158816_1290779181_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"></span></a><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoKCKSFvggCtasSNLs1pejIdgjTmO2xnD6LdO2IaK8w9XX1m5zBjHtAGVdv3mut2O_mbUntoHhrHT2lOsFjoSId8Eudmas4WwNxsAN8MHhaA6XxujAJTtKZ8t5zdB2hfpV2fusp9PnFUU/s1600/1511327_10101292353929176_1574782721_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoKCKSFvggCtasSNLs1pejIdgjTmO2xnD6LdO2IaK8w9XX1m5zBjHtAGVdv3mut2O_mbUntoHhrHT2lOsFjoSId8Eudmas4WwNxsAN8MHhaA6XxujAJTtKZ8t5zdB2hfpV2fusp9PnFUU/s1600/1511327_10101292353929176_1574782721_n.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">And drank some beer.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYpWwfGzUfyZ4pHVnf3TfRR2G_i4TiTTcgFirF86kLe2iuf0AZkUtHhZN4GxXIlVOTXPjbRnBF8YMH3Sbrs6C8hOu_JKBNgEp0hJtz8jWsVHoTUj8hKYKDiq3GuXwjHaaByBC5FadLAnA/s1600/1460218_10101235730188606_2067091726_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYpWwfGzUfyZ4pHVnf3TfRR2G_i4TiTTcgFirF86kLe2iuf0AZkUtHhZN4GxXIlVOTXPjbRnBF8YMH3Sbrs6C8hOu_JKBNgEp0hJtz8jWsVHoTUj8hKYKDiq3GuXwjHaaByBC5FadLAnA/s1600/1460218_10101235730188606_2067091726_n.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></span></a><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Most of the time I took the metro, but if I had to drive anywhere, I let Roux take the wheel.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgC1_qJ5gVyRJ3z4IMoHRKPKHw1X5Y70uIziEdMdcdVX5OERYsBCp4KCTMJXA5tySLjxwoc4hgg3mZQpxFs1a3EW1JNEAMsd2ERQ71rNByKSwhOWZhKMEnHhl6SLnk26nnRQ2lLZ2-PIko/s1600/859430_10100855906707906_607147431_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgC1_qJ5gVyRJ3z4IMoHRKPKHw1X5Y70uIziEdMdcdVX5OERYsBCp4KCTMJXA5tySLjxwoc4hgg3mZQpxFs1a3EW1JNEAMsd2ERQ71rNByKSwhOWZhKMEnHhl6SLnk26nnRQ2lLZ2-PIko/s1600/859430_10100855906707906_607147431_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: start;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgC1_qJ5gVyRJ3z4IMoHRKPKHw1X5Y70uIziEdMdcdVX5OERYsBCp4KCTMJXA5tySLjxwoc4hgg3mZQpxFs1a3EW1JNEAMsd2ERQ71rNByKSwhOWZhKMEnHhl6SLnk26nnRQ2lLZ2-PIko/s1600/859430_10100855906707906_607147431_o.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">A year ago today, I started my dream internship at NPR Music. I showed up in black dress slacks and heels. But instead of casual Fridays, the music team opted for casual Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday and - if anyone remembered - dressy Friday, which meant that Stephen wore his jeans that only had one hole in them. And then there was the one Friday that Jacob actually wore blue suede shoes...<br />What an amazing bunch.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwUWpkN8ZYaJCcnoNjd8dGc5cxmivjv0K06rp3vNchsgNFK09AFlQPthrC0e4WkymdqZ6dU-Bz6YCnAu-Ocm9VxETr1ys28ieDOyLuyyOED85vLiQ5_Cxp7G11Df9F-L5qKvbkG1jkyao/s1600/1459945_10101256546617316_550770752_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: start;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwUWpkN8ZYaJCcnoNjd8dGc5cxmivjv0K06rp3vNchsgNFK09AFlQPthrC0e4WkymdqZ6dU-Bz6YCnAu-Ocm9VxETr1ys28ieDOyLuyyOED85vLiQ5_Cxp7G11Df9F-L5qKvbkG1jkyao/s1600/1459945_10101256546617316_550770752_n.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I took a stab at being healthy and started running outside. But weird bumps popped up on my shins, proving I'm allergic to exercise and giving me permission to binge marathon <i>Orange Is The New Black </i>and <i>Pretty Little Liars</i> on my couch. Because I'm a hypochondriac, I decided to have my bumpy legs inspected at the orthopedic surgeon and the kind doctor gave me these awesome shorts to wear. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimyPGG8zSUgraloMz5u4LlngZrQzalLajpg5JQ-IdXltBN1spKVb_ShB2U3JDww5VholAlTh6fA7vEQGrJuKrcX6E88lWt_XC2jLZl_xvdAeI94uwFT9s5zruqWe_U43om6ctGUO5ZkZE/s1600/1479238_10101280581216786_1542287852_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimyPGG8zSUgraloMz5u4LlngZrQzalLajpg5JQ-IdXltBN1spKVb_ShB2U3JDww5VholAlTh6fA7vEQGrJuKrcX6E88lWt_XC2jLZl_xvdAeI94uwFT9s5zruqWe_U43om6ctGUO5ZkZE/s1600/1479238_10101280581216786_1542287852_n.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">My fashionable medical accessories didn't stop there. I had to have all four of my wisdom teeth removed and I spent the last two weeks of 2013 looking like this.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7p4PkLFzwqUhrQ72qLkWk-o7Q-UcHaj3LmataudemYMp6vyVjin77WLEsoreUSF0e_u16MC3EvMXjVDtxr3qPXifjsemQDOrus-wY9o-kUiFw5wCF6lmRbdj9W9Q9xGBXtSwtwyQRmsw/s1600/1470370_10101257835644096_1353645487_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7p4PkLFzwqUhrQ72qLkWk-o7Q-UcHaj3LmataudemYMp6vyVjin77WLEsoreUSF0e_u16MC3EvMXjVDtxr3qPXifjsemQDOrus-wY9o-kUiFw5wCF6lmRbdj9W9Q9xGBXtSwtwyQRmsw/s1600/1470370_10101257835644096_1353645487_n.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">But it's okay, because I had the golden ticket to a solid toothless diet. This baby guarantees me free frosties for the rest of the year.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgC1_qJ5gVyRJ3z4IMoHRKPKHw1X5Y70uIziEdMdcdVX5OERYsBCp4KCTMJXA5tySLjxwoc4hgg3mZQpxFs1a3EW1JNEAMsd2ERQ71rNByKSwhOWZhKMEnHhl6SLnk26nnRQ2lLZ2-PIko/s1600/859430_10100855906707906_607147431_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"></span></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinAhZvhnuU_fo17UvBZMfjlVpG0ovYebY_ohjDs_Cgh9-jUhyKZzJMaxp_JQVVoXTyWpUbSsipwxghWlmKRPUGY0-ejziaIc5yp3euSM7jC-WjSzTXaLaEMmtA9hNZ0OJyZAnNpWcv8bs/s1600/546656_10100739122923546_179547677_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinAhZvhnuU_fo17UvBZMfjlVpG0ovYebY_ohjDs_Cgh9-jUhyKZzJMaxp_JQVVoXTyWpUbSsipwxghWlmKRPUGY0-ejziaIc5yp3euSM7jC-WjSzTXaLaEMmtA9hNZ0OJyZAnNpWcv8bs/s1600/546656_10100739122923546_179547677_n.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">And last, but not least, I casually drank wine in a field with the musician whose concerts I've been structuring my life around since I was 15 years old. He put his arm around me and his face touched my face. That is all.</span><br />
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-->Desire'http://www.blogger.com/profile/04283153571720955489noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7625133165248435512.post-39862047603349058172012-05-15T09:52:00.002-04:002012-05-15T09:54:40.588-04:00Published!<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #351c75;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">My first music write-up came out yesterday with </span></span><a href="http://www.drawlmag.com/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #3d85c6;">Drawl Magazine</span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #351c75;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">! I'm very excited so please head on over and </span></span><a href="http://www.drawlmag.com/entertainment/music/2012/05/musicfromthebridge"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #3d85c6;">check it out</span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #351c75;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">!</span></span>Desire'http://www.blogger.com/profile/04283153571720955489noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7625133165248435512.post-13114183552534241382011-12-29T13:44:00.000-05:002011-12-29T13:44:36.826-05:00TP Trauma<div style="color: #351c75; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">I rely on two techniques to ensure that my butt doesn't come into physical contact with the toilet seat when using public restrooms. Like most normal women, my method of choice is squatting. However, if there is something preventing me from properly executing the squat (ie: laziness, inebriation, or loss of balance due to wearing heels), then I turn to option number 2, which is to line the seat with toilet paper before sitting down. These two strategies have pretty much served me well during my 23 years of life (24 years, as of Saturday!). That is, up until that fateful weekend in September. </div><div style="color: #351c75; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #351c75; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">It was a big weekend. The Avett Brothers were playing two nights in a row at the Charlottesville Pavilion and one of my best friends, Julia, was coming to visit from Baton Rouge. After a day of wine-tasting, a group of about 8 of us decided to go out to dinner at Michael's Bistro on the Corner. After we finished eating, I ran to the restroom before we left the restaurant.</div><div style="color: #351c75; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #351c75; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><i>Some useful background information: I also had laryngitis at the time and had spent 15 minutes in the bathroom blowing my nose at one of the vineyards earlier in the day. You can imagine the kind of jokes this warranted.</i> </div><div style="color: #351c75; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">With this in mind, I was determined to pee as quickly as possible and haul ass (literally) out of the bathroom. As I was facing every squatting obstacle possible, I lined the seat with toilet paper, did my thing, and rushed out. I didn't notice anything unusual and no one else seemed to, as we put on our coats and descended, single-file, down the long staircase that dumped us out onto the sidewalk. </div><div style="color: #351c75; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #351c75; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">My friend, Margaret, had followed me down the stairs and when we finally stepped outside, I heard her say, rather loudly and not so covertly, " Desire'!!! Is that...TOILET PAPER?"</div><div style="color: #351c75; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Naturally, I looked down at my boots and started inspecting the bottom of my heels. I didn't see anything. "Nope! I don't know what you mean...there's nothing!" That was when I realized it. Margaret was pointing between my legs. I looked down, and there it was: a long trail of toilet paper peeking out from beneath my skirt. The toilet paper that lined the seat must have stuck to my butt when I stood up, and was now secured on one end by my tights, allowing the other end to billow in the wind behind me as I walked, like a kite tail.</div><div style="color: #351c75; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #351c75; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Suddenly, I felt a tugging, and there was my friend, Kim, taking one for the team and pulling the toilet paper out. However, it wasn't going anywhere without a fight and it didn't take long for Kim to scream, "There's resistance!!" When the toilet paper decided to give, Kim kept pulling and pulling. Everyone gasped and awed, as the squares of toilet paper multiplied. Kim promptly threw it on the ground and we all glared at it, gleaming against the stone walkway. Everyone burst out laughing (including a random couple who had stood nearby to watch the spectacle) as I tried to explain my seat-lining method. But it was no use.</div><div style="color: #351c75; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #351c75; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">At the end of the night, we were standing on the same street corner, trying to hail a cab, when an ambulance pulled up the area where my strip of toilet paper had been abandoned just hours earlier. "I'll bet there was a bar fight or something," I surmised. "No, no, no. Let's be honest here," my friend Patrick responded. "Someone obviously tripped on your toilet paper."</div><div style="color: #351c75; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #351c75; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">A couple weeks later, I received this card in the mail from Julia:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: #351c75; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-b6mR1sjjk-Y/TvyzXY-g3lI/AAAAAAAAAKc/NQDFT0iQbsg/s1600/TP.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-b6mR1sjjk-Y/TvyzXY-g3lI/AAAAAAAAAKc/NQDFT0iQbsg/s320/TP.jpg" width="239" /></a></div><span style="color: #351c75; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">There I am.</span><br style="color: #351c75; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;" /><br style="color: #351c75; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;" />Desire'http://www.blogger.com/profile/04283153571720955489noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7625133165248435512.post-4732908912294077372011-11-03T14:01:00.001-04:002011-11-03T14:03:24.140-04:00Things That Amuse Me<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">I knew that today was going to be a good day when I awoke to a facebook message from my friend that said:</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">"i spent tonight at a weird work dinner entertaining a CREEP named GORDON. then i had to take him and his boring friends out for drinks and then i got home and had a package and it was something i ordered friday night while not in a proper state of mind (like now) and it is a<a href="http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/41k1qPjC9ZL._SL500_AA300_.jpg"> box of 50 owl finger puppets</a>! why would i order that?!" </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><a href="http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/41k1qPjC9ZL._SL500_AA300_.jpg"></a></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Here's some other things that are keeping me entertained today:</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><a href="http://edition.cnn.com/2011/11/03/us/rice-gadhafi/index.html?iref=allsearch">Gadhafi had a secret Condoleezza Rice scrapbook?!</a></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R16be0l3PLE">Literal "Look At Me Now"</a></div>Desire'http://www.blogger.com/profile/04283153571720955489noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7625133165248435512.post-16283677708311248072011-08-15T00:43:00.000-04:002011-08-15T00:43:14.982-04:00My Cat Ate My Doctor's Note<div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">My <s>Dog</s> Cat Ate My <s>Homework</s> Doctor's Note.</span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Yep. That's right. My cat has struck again. As I've mentioned before, I had gall bladder surgery a few months ago. Having a major organ ripped out through your belly button doesn't really leave your body in the best condition to go to Zumba or Cycling. In order to get my money back for my gym membership, I had my Doctor write a note explaining my situation. All I had to do was fax the letter to the Scary Gym Lady (see below):</span></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj8BV0hXnbtupTnc7ZU1uYMzST3KsKPhq08dEq8JbzLhw6vQ3eLEYBDy6rk8aTD-l-qoxRcbrjriFyiJBYwsUdWvFaZCrQRszoXSvgyoPVJF4fNElPj48tfGB-uwymsIursmLQYZ8iRXY/s1600/gymlady.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj8BV0hXnbtupTnc7ZU1uYMzST3KsKPhq08dEq8JbzLhw6vQ3eLEYBDy6rk8aTD-l-qoxRcbrjriFyiJBYwsUdWvFaZCrQRszoXSvgyoPVJF4fNElPj48tfGB-uwymsIursmLQYZ8iRXY/s400/gymlady.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<br />
<div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> and hope that, having already ruined enough lives that day, she would spare a little mercy and honor my request.</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">But once again my laziness prevailed and the Doctor's note sat under a pink magnet on my fridge for approximately a month and a half. It wasn't until I needed to use that pink magnet to hold something way more important (tickets to two Avett Brothers concerts in September) that I decided I should do something about the note. <i>I'll take it to work with me in the morning and fax it from there</i>, I thought. Apparently, the note caught my cat, Roux's, attention at the same time. (I'm not going to lie, there are times when I think Roux can read my mind...she really freaks me out...) Except Roux didn't wait until the morning to take action. She decided to do something about it in the middle of the night.</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> When I woke up in the morning, I saw it. My Doctor's note was on the floor with a bite taken out of it. And not just any bite. The most crucial bite that could have been taken. If this were a cinnamon bun, Roux had eaten the moist center, where the spiral ends and all the cinnamon-y goodness is contained. Let's just say that Roux knows how to eat her paper. She managed to take the most bland dish and find a way to savor it. She had eaten the </span><i style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><b>date</b></i><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">. </span><i style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Desire' had surgery on ------. </i><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Without a date, I had </span><b style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">nothing</b><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">! No proof of when the surgery actually took place. I could have had this surgery 3 years ago for all they knew. How Roux even got the note down is a question I'd rather not know the answer to.</span> <span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">How inconvenient! Just when I had decided to be slightly motivated, Roux foiled my plans!</span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUQ93FSXf97qZ5ZScsmpNL2jRAOTcDDDUdpQpQgQZtgApMSK3b0ZtcUPYrZ3N9XJVYSSWloSgWwbh37tkUlD91FL78BQLfIMC4I3GcSPZAwUCVkx5T2mEwKleqqjWZUi7vvV5O3PYEtzU/s1600/note2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUQ93FSXf97qZ5ZScsmpNL2jRAOTcDDDUdpQpQgQZtgApMSK3b0ZtcUPYrZ3N9XJVYSSWloSgWwbh37tkUlD91FL78BQLfIMC4I3GcSPZAwUCVkx5T2mEwKleqqjWZUi7vvV5O3PYEtzU/s640/note2.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Aftermath: </span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhow7I1hNkGuRdgZXjHhFVNSForZVbYuaR_00USirPvsogrSZnadm0RYTlMYCk3VSuC2miXyQuWC8BxTBeiPA88ZKj_waktDAS2OVXCURlkvwt72e_sTEB5f9ZafSlMsEygJqdUie2HhoU/s1600/note1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhow7I1hNkGuRdgZXjHhFVNSForZVbYuaR_00USirPvsogrSZnadm0RYTlMYCk3VSuC2miXyQuWC8BxTBeiPA88ZKj_waktDAS2OVXCURlkvwt72e_sTEB5f9ZafSlMsEygJqdUie2HhoU/s320/note1.jpg" width="237" /></a></div><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Thanks, Roux.</span><br />
<br />
Desire'http://www.blogger.com/profile/04283153571720955489noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7625133165248435512.post-17772966790168670542011-08-07T13:06:00.001-04:002011-08-07T13:06:28.216-04:00Dez Vs. NatureI've always had a complicated relationship with the outdoors--the complication being that I like nature, but I suck at it. It all started when I was 12 years old and I went to a week-long summer camp in West Virginia with my best friend, Kristen. Despite a variety of mishaps that indicated otherwise (including having a boy cast his fishing hook into my chest), I actually thought I was cut-out for camp life. It wasn't until we embarked on our 3-day backpacking journey into the woods that I realized there was a problem.<br />
<br />
We had partners for the hike that we shared a backpack with. I'm not talking the latest neon-green JanSport that I had bought for my inauguration into middle school. I'm talking one of those heavy-duty cross-country beasts. A backpack of myths...something I had only heard about but certainly had never seen before. Kristen, who has always been far more nature-inclined, offered to carry the backpack first so that I would take over at the half-way point. After 4.5 miles, the time had come.<br />
<br />
I've decided that it's best to convey what happened next in cartoon-format.<br />
<div style="color: red;"><span style="font-size: large;">(Forewarning</span>: I also have a complicated relationship with "Paintbrush for Macs")</div><br />
I tried not to be intimidated:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrakGrOFO2B-c3u8AyTX87pE93IHUbp4mg_obc-GPFCb7YnKjC6H2tpDSUgJZe55Bl9BBOH5-dggs78T8ZCKXg5BLdTkVfg71AjvojW50VfG7CKcnVM0oUif4qpTCZODwXJCV3I-AiWvs/s1600/bigbackpack.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrakGrOFO2B-c3u8AyTX87pE93IHUbp4mg_obc-GPFCb7YnKjC6H2tpDSUgJZe55Bl9BBOH5-dggs78T8ZCKXg5BLdTkVfg71AjvojW50VfG7CKcnVM0oUif4qpTCZODwXJCV3I-AiWvs/s640/bigbackpack.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>But it was easily 3 times my size. The camp counselor slung the beast onto my back and my body immediately started shaking. The top of the backpack caved beneath the weight and formed a hat on the top of my head, covering my eyes. It took all my strength to lift my right leg. As I tried to find my footing for that first step, I kicked a tree root and it was game over.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR6MeeshGuGOKqLe28WXY6xjMDmJdVpQjclwvNIWXacegsAvYoA6cOPIro_rG6SCemetRJWocLB31v0lyyK4Ro3dJPNG0bTggBEVLhZMn9345WEY64g1WCUmgHNy4AePxOUOpd9ttkYlg/s1600/backpacktrap.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR6MeeshGuGOKqLe28WXY6xjMDmJdVpQjclwvNIWXacegsAvYoA6cOPIro_rG6SCemetRJWocLB31v0lyyK4Ro3dJPNG0bTggBEVLhZMn9345WEY64g1WCUmgHNy4AePxOUOpd9ttkYlg/s640/backpacktrap.png" width="640" /></a></div><br />
I fell face-first into the dirt and couldn't get up. I was being smothered by the backpack. <i>This is it</i>, I thought. <i>This is how I'm going to die. </i><br />
<br />
Instead, the counselor made Kristen carry the backpack the rest of the way, allowing my traumatized self to enjoy a breezy 9-mile hike.<br />
<br />
Fast forward to the present. Now, I only camp during music festivals. And even then, I cheat. Refer to these loving portraits of me and my fan from our recent trip to Floydfest as proof:<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQyKEBMBntwr7NWvv8yM6HT2AEaANWWu8X4_vAaZ6fp8KLkIuAGQ2vXEINM-RzwADjip5yHcdzRi_ZvCibqZ00fV-4xGcoWUBfyVyWpNVFWco7EiwAySNQ8qOWWUKIFpa0sPYaVYj-5z0/s1600/254671_2090089423062_1570020022_32065619_6237562_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQyKEBMBntwr7NWvv8yM6HT2AEaANWWu8X4_vAaZ6fp8KLkIuAGQ2vXEINM-RzwADjip5yHcdzRi_ZvCibqZ00fV-4xGcoWUBfyVyWpNVFWco7EiwAySNQ8qOWWUKIFpa0sPYaVYj-5z0/s400/254671_2090089423062_1570020022_32065619_6237562_n.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">How I do camping</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmGO_0CJfBAVam9NLo41CKf4nC_7MpL-RVsskpnyMZ3GqtysIu83cisJCBuElGeEVmC1WTK8pNV6tioUJqPDtSHdCmxOrKMOAcXobi-Tl0V_5MEOYPgfvv2Ea8jjmySbi0lOgR4AoYMWc/s1600/262856_2090081702869_1570020022_32065594_7470860_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmGO_0CJfBAVam9NLo41CKf4nC_7MpL-RVsskpnyMZ3GqtysIu83cisJCBuElGeEVmC1WTK8pNV6tioUJqPDtSHdCmxOrKMOAcXobi-Tl0V_5MEOYPgfvv2Ea8jjmySbi0lOgR4AoYMWc/s400/262856_2090081702869_1570020022_32065594_7470860_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">It's the only way to go</span></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
While I've admitted to myself that camping isn't for me, I refuse to give up on hiking...but perhaps I should. A couple of weeks ago, I went hiking in Shenandoah National Park with my friends Patrick and Chad. The only thing funnier than going hiking when you suck at it is going hiking with people who are worse at it than you are. This is what Patrick looked like the entire time:<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzlzlvNWXXBXNyVx8x5pMU394N2pdCdt_TWt55TZFjth3MF89NKaPbeHXDx2JDIEgKu_R-dirzs17Wo6jEFAmGGAx-269XOQYowg3YMPluQqmzHjB8YQI24mCY1_VKoWQ1ZPcWjbMAo4o/s1600/DSCI0710.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzlzlvNWXXBXNyVx8x5pMU394N2pdCdt_TWt55TZFjth3MF89NKaPbeHXDx2JDIEgKu_R-dirzs17Wo6jEFAmGGAx-269XOQYowg3YMPluQqmzHjB8YQI24mCY1_VKoWQ1ZPcWjbMAo4o/s400/DSCI0710.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbUHYuYhInTQCVa4a-d-so8vC7Fp17o5jqctdlLxd2fx4rinQ1XlStGOsm68o_Q8K-rC5aX2FZGO8Aj9TrxVpjjQBOLDn9x1NlnNE_HGUyij2zPOYEjR6CC8i2dWcRmt76n7H-N2PeN-8/s1600/DSCI0719.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbUHYuYhInTQCVa4a-d-so8vC7Fp17o5jqctdlLxd2fx4rinQ1XlStGOsm68o_Q8K-rC5aX2FZGO8Aj9TrxVpjjQBOLDn9x1NlnNE_HGUyij2zPOYEjR6CC8i2dWcRmt76n7H-N2PeN-8/s400/DSCI0719.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Pretty much sums up Patrick's feelings about the hike</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
When Chad asked one of us to carry the backpack, I promptly fled and hid behind a rock. I wasn't going there again. On the way back, we were all pouring sweat and fed up. The "gorgeous waterfall view" we were hiking to ended up being a tiny rock peeing way in the distance. Chad had a grand idea of taking a short-cut that he knew oh so well...even though he had never been on this hike in his life. Patrick and I were in the middle of smacking him (there was no way this was actually a short-cut) when we heard it.<br />
<br />
A loud rustling in the trees. What could it be?!! It was getting closer. Was it a bear?! A wolf?! A crazed lumberjack?!<br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
We grabbed onto each other for dear life. <i> </i><br />
<i>SHHH!! </i><br />
<i>DON'T MOVE.</i><br />
<i> DON'T SPEAK. </i><br />
<i>DON'T BREATHE.</i><br />
<br />
Huddled on an edge of this dirt path looking like a downtrodden version of Dorothy, The Lion, and The Tin Man, we waited anxiously.<br />
<br />
A deer came into view. It stopped to graze just before hopping onto the path about 10 feet from where we were standing.<br />
<i> </i><br />
<i>Do deer hurt you?? </i><br />
<i>They can!! If she has a baby around, she will attack us!!</i><br />
<i>We're dead.</i><br />
<i>Shhh!</i><br />
I started pinching Chad on the arm. <i>This is all your fault!</i><br />
<i> </i><br />
We shared some panicked glances with the deer before she sprinted off.<br />
<br />
What actually happened?<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSCiGxxNYc7iPUaG5wWc2Kw-TYpT-3r4aTNuDhXgdaYH_0wJAPoPF0yhmmIyHojEeM_Ud_vwzOoiZUcnNVLk_koUW7ToIdDG5kUfZha3p2OZUT9o_A3UDxNxZfYi-EuD7Nl6lKWo9XQMo/s1600/peacefuldeer.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSCiGxxNYc7iPUaG5wWc2Kw-TYpT-3r4aTNuDhXgdaYH_0wJAPoPF0yhmmIyHojEeM_Ud_vwzOoiZUcnNVLk_koUW7ToIdDG5kUfZha3p2OZUT9o_A3UDxNxZfYi-EuD7Nl6lKWo9XQMo/s640/peacefuldeer.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Peaceful deer stopping to graze right next to us, creating a gorgeous scene to end our hike.</span></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>What we saw?<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYQiKHk0pr3VSJr4rHz1M5cLA8DLEXO5fRuNivxTPciJKgOwvbVREBz9WmGMnfMY-dbfIzHN1qhvBF4SbJbWK0HDt7AFnWPajYaIPD8TlHL_6ngZlapDXjEKiRN4f9IjXD_yRY3ya1ZCw/s1600/angrydeer.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYQiKHk0pr3VSJr4rHz1M5cLA8DLEXO5fRuNivxTPciJKgOwvbVREBz9WmGMnfMY-dbfIzHN1qhvBF4SbJbWK0HDt7AFnWPajYaIPD8TlHL_6ngZlapDXjEKiRN4f9IjXD_yRY3ya1ZCw/s640/angrydeer.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Blood-thirsty savage</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>(My laziness outweighs my capacity for embarrassment, so instead of actually putting forth any effort on revising these cartoons, I posted them in their original glory.)<br />
<br />
In light of this recent adventure, I think it's time to give up on my battle with nature. I never stood a chance.Desire'http://www.blogger.com/profile/04283153571720955489noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7625133165248435512.post-9842182840145226722011-07-15T00:40:00.000-04:002011-07-15T00:40:23.061-04:00Summa Tiiime<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">What I've been doing this past month, which has lead to my MIA status in the blogosphere:</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: orange;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Drowning</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><br />
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</tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGv9-5MD8qmIhDBirRlbsXMy-VdA59EOq10yctpSv274Rp7WI38LetMCU3K0yqsWRxbGDvulLaDvRh0KG85fyBA1pb2JYxd8BWJ4oWgz0AjGXrWb_Tija3xjpX07yFbm9V2eDOCLsx5hY/s1600/260203_1930108063628_1570020022_31931962_7802847_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGv9-5MD8qmIhDBirRlbsXMy-VdA59EOq10yctpSv274Rp7WI38LetMCU3K0yqsWRxbGDvulLaDvRh0KG85fyBA1pb2JYxd8BWJ4oWgz0AjGXrWb_Tija3xjpX07yFbm9V2eDOCLsx5hY/s320/260203_1930108063628_1570020022_31931962_7802847_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgULsN8pCrEGkbTUepHLF_aRlys6d4ffqaVKwR3uZz-wXM5UXRy96dCI9O_SDOF-HKca035I7VNDPetRJl1TN7KxYVnzGRhcWQtZU5LYK5cf1yY7NDuMAKQ3IFbANEB4VDmY8BVg7oJbLk/s1600/254505_961011418266_1518331_46832537_1032384_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgULsN8pCrEGkbTUepHLF_aRlys6d4ffqaVKwR3uZz-wXM5UXRy96dCI9O_SDOF-HKca035I7VNDPetRJl1TN7KxYVnzGRhcWQtZU5LYK5cf1yY7NDuMAKQ3IFbANEB4VDmY8BVg7oJbLk/s320/254505_961011418266_1518331_46832537_1032384_n.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: orange;">Starry Night at Veritas Vineyard featuring the Hackensaw Boys</span></span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjd1n1MdlmgvGsLNul8lBt0vOB7if-MBn5s8boor3H32lk1jwvIKt9m8y_Us77EjNwRMItdMMi3Bpyhs21FVmemT0murWVqzzdRY2ujqOsfiX0C6NHNZVVFXIk2BnlyGSLHk_xgULd1n4/s1600/255598_1910256407349_1570020022_31907248_3603790_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjd1n1MdlmgvGsLNul8lBt0vOB7if-MBn5s8boor3H32lk1jwvIKt9m8y_Us77EjNwRMItdMMi3Bpyhs21FVmemT0murWVqzzdRY2ujqOsfiX0C6NHNZVVFXIk2BnlyGSLHk_xgULd1n4/s320/255598_1910256407349_1570020022_31907248_3603790_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: orange;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Lake times</span></span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyIRuUWv45XFAS0sLXYJ6azBAJCn5hlvTeH99WQU4fMzWmeO0RiBnWe9p1C750oyiqBMqYt65t0ocIKzbLUmjZzNVipKRRBqZO3xo9B8LT8vIqVlJljdYOdeWw2glElarR7SsLObW0pgg/s1600/267461_969690744826_1526803_46984749_2200366_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyIRuUWv45XFAS0sLXYJ6azBAJCn5hlvTeH99WQU4fMzWmeO0RiBnWe9p1C750oyiqBMqYt65t0ocIKzbLUmjZzNVipKRRBqZO3xo9B8LT8vIqVlJljdYOdeWw2glElarR7SsLObW0pgg/s320/267461_969690744826_1526803_46984749_2200366_n.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: orange;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">DMB Caravan in Atlantic City!!</span></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPdMFI5CGTQa4IEKfE6ITCIoFilhd5LUUay2JnPhnHVB3DKssIu_lsHyvwfOmHFNdzWe1k2Q1x4iNb-Hxxw0DJTlTqYF1UNcQkaupC2yv18miUq2yHv_NHKOcYV1JUefh2RCaO7H6eG8k/s1600/263465_969693539226_1526803_46984841_1988296_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPdMFI5CGTQa4IEKfE6ITCIoFilhd5LUUay2JnPhnHVB3DKssIu_lsHyvwfOmHFNdzWe1k2Q1x4iNb-Hxxw0DJTlTqYF1UNcQkaupC2yv18miUq2yHv_NHKOcYV1JUefh2RCaO7H6eG8k/s320/263465_969693539226_1526803_46984841_1988296_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: orange;">Floyd Fandango!</span></span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLDLdrp-qVa4l_S76Zye0fDK2qS6gzSfGYa9If-6Za81McS1ciwYdgkt_OQ5Ar03VlZgawbVpwrWw_8btGyVIge394OsFx-ifQ4lWAMCA3WJlCj2b3IqUUlaj-A2MDhWrrrz88MgyMMjQ/s1600/264487_10100130388038136_1528576_47087026_7804125_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLDLdrp-qVa4l_S76Zye0fDK2qS6gzSfGYa9If-6Za81McS1ciwYdgkt_OQ5Ar03VlZgawbVpwrWw_8btGyVIge394OsFx-ifQ4lWAMCA3WJlCj2b3IqUUlaj-A2MDhWrrrz88MgyMMjQ/s320/264487_10100130388038136_1528576_47087026_7804125_n.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: orange;">Floyd Fandango!</span></span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXokpWw9TU-t6avCmuODNGBeJ4ZfgqaIcODnC7T4bQVBzJimthTTDXy4AAAn-iEB1D1oTJdYCvIMnzEQCQx-q0aUn4A-KDh_I3zeZK6lY6rew1Z6ae9KEnjJHMLXUXFmUFS-nnDgR8SRk/s1600/264799_10100133603818686_1528576_47157474_1048402_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXokpWw9TU-t6avCmuODNGBeJ4ZfgqaIcODnC7T4bQVBzJimthTTDXy4AAAn-iEB1D1oTJdYCvIMnzEQCQx-q0aUn4A-KDh_I3zeZK6lY6rew1Z6ae9KEnjJHMLXUXFmUFS-nnDgR8SRk/s320/264799_10100133603818686_1528576_47157474_1048402_n.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
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</tbody></table><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Hope everyone's having a glorious summer so far! </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">More to come this weekend! (That is, after I see Harry Potter 7.2 and my whole childhood comes to an end).</span>Desire'http://www.blogger.com/profile/04283153571720955489noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7625133165248435512.post-84047896524543066242011-06-15T23:42:00.003-04:002011-06-16T08:04:38.249-04:00Letter To My Upstairs Neighbors<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Dear Heels and Man-Heels,</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Let me start off by saying that I appreciate your need to exaggerate your height (someone once asked me if I was even 5 feet tall...DISCLAIMER: my Driver's License says I'm 5' 2" and we all know you can't lie on those forms...). But when you are in the vicinity of your own home, <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gJLIiF15wjQ">are you for real</a> (fast forward to 1 min. 53 sec). I don't need to hear you stomping around in 6-inch wooden stilettos at all times like a pirate with two peg legs who's trying to find his way back to the ship. And why would you </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">even </span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">begin to start dancing?? </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Those cozy, </span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">fabric</span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> slippers that were left outside of your door circa Christmas time were NOT from St. Nick. They were from a lesser-known, more pissed off St. Dez, who intended that they be put to good use. Guess you were too tall for that. I can only imagine that Man-Heels used them to mop up the excess of hair product that he slung all over the bathroom while getting ready in the morning (this isn't the Jersey Shore, dbag...and wearing a popped collar...on a </span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">sweater</span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">, while carrying an open Coors Light on the sidewalk doesn't make you cool).</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Remember that time you were nursing a Rain Forest in your living room and all the water overflowed out of the pots and dripped through the floor? Well, thanks for watering my brand-new TV. With the proper amount of sunlight, I was able to ruin not one, but two, input ports.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Just so you know, no level of OCD makes it okay to vacuum at 7am or 1am for that matter. And when I awoke to the loud crooning of your awful country music at 6am and screamed "shut up motherf#@*$!!!," it actually was not an invitation for you to turn the music up louder.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">When you were showing your apartment to a potential subletter and they asked about noise level and you told them that you "knew a little bit too much about the girl downstairs," what exactly did you mean by that? I should probably remind you that when you're in the middle of a domestic dispute or referring to your potential jail sentence, that it would be a good idea to whisper.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Regards,</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The girl who's about to call the cops on you</span>Desire'http://www.blogger.com/profile/04283153571720955489noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7625133165248435512.post-33477657589820782522011-06-01T08:23:00.000-04:002011-06-01T08:23:22.735-04:00Three Gold Coins<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">Last weekend I received a flyer in the mail from a local car dealership advertising a sale they were having. But this wasn't just </span></span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">any </span></span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">flyer. This flyer came with a </span></span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">key</span></span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"> and a lottery. There were three different scratch-able columns on the back and if one of column's numbers matched the group of bold numbers above it, then you won. Shockingly, (although, as I was to find out later, not so shockingly) my second column of numbers matched!! I opened up my flyer to see my prize options:</span></span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><br />
</span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">1. $25,000****<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">2. 2011 Toyota Camry***<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">3. $100**<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">4. Three Gold Coins*<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><br />
</span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">I needed to go down to the car dealership sale to claim my prize. Obviously this was just a ploy to get me to come and buy a new car, and every prize had an asterisk next to it. So what? </span></span></span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">I had won! </span></span></span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">In all of my excitement, I didn't bother to read the fine print, but if I did, I'm sure it would have translated to something like this:<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><br />
</span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">****Nah, this prize isn't real.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">***Good luck with that.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">**1 in 45,000 people win this (direct quote)<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">*And by Gold we mean Brass<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><br />
</span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">It was only 6 o'clock on a Friday, I was fresh off of work and didn't have anything going on until later in the evening, so I thought it was the perfect time to collect my winnings. Sure, my odds weren't great, but maybe I was the only person who would go claim their prize so they would have to give me the big prize by default. Regardless, they owed me </span></span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">something.</span></span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"> I drug my friend, Margaret, along, and we headed towards the mall, where this dealership had temporarily camped out in the parking lot. We walked up to the deserted tent and were greeted by a downtrodden girl with the voice/personality of </span></span></span><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mhYwcpw6yBY"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">Daria</span></span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><br />
</span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">Daria: </span></span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">How may I help you? Are you interested in buying a car today?</span></span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><br />
</span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">Me: (I wanted to play it cool. There was no way I could let her know that we had driven all the way there in the hopes of attaining random scam mail lottery glory.) </span></span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">Um, yeah, we were...uh...chilling at the mall and then I remembered that I got this random thing in the mail and decided to come over here and claim my prize.</span></span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><br />
</span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">It was the least-cool thing I could have said. "I was watching Star Trek alone in my room and decided to get out of the house" would have probably sounded better. Telling her about my fake adventures at the mall on a Friday night led her to ask me if I was 16. No wonder.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><br />
</span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">Daria: </span></span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">Do you go to the University?</span></span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">Me: </span></span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">We did. We already graduated</span></span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">Daria: </span></span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">Oh. Well, actually, I thought you were in High School. Don't worry, though, I get that all the time. Everyone always thinks I'm 16, but I'm actually in my twenties. We'll appreciate it once we're older.</span></span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">Me: </span></span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">Yeah, I'm also in my twenties...</span></span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><br />
</span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">I had suddenly lost interest. I shoved my lottery flyer and accompanying key in Daria's face, as if to say, </span></span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">Let's get this over with, give me my shiz so I can go home.</span></span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><br />
</span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">Daria escorted me over to a car. </span></span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">Alright, you can try your key to see if it fits. But I doubt it will.</span></span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><br />
</span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">How encouraging. I tried to coax my key ever so gently into the keyhole. I wanted to prove her wrong but I knew it was useless...my key looked like a Fischer Price reject.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><br />
</span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">Defeated, I followed Daria into the tent and over to a Dry-Erase board, displaying a 7-digit code. </span></span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">If your code matches this one, you win $100, </span></span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">Daria said mechanically. I had 3 out of the 7 numbers. I hung my head once again, but Daria seemed slightly encouraged. </span></span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">I’ve never seen someone have so many matching numbers! </span></span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">She declared with a tone that suggested that she had just been told that her goldfish had died. This was a step-up for her.</span></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><br />
</span></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">Lastly, she led me over to a table and made me sit down in a rickety folding chair while she fetched a scratcher card for me. </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">The card had about 20 boxes and I was only allowed to scratch 6 of them.</span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">I had to scratch 6 different pictures of keys to win $25, 000.</span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">The different types of keys were pictured to the side.</span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">I knew that I was probably going to scratch a bunch of the same keys and get confused but I still had a glimmer of hope.</span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">This was it.</span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">My last chance.</span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">For all the marbles (marbz).</span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">I took a deep breath and scratched a box at random.</span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">I unveiled a picture of a pair of scissors.</span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><br />
</span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">Crap</span></span></span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">. I didn’t see that coming.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><br />
</span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">So does that mean I’m out already?!! </span></span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">I screamed desperately at Daria.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">Yep. Hold on, let me go get your coins.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><br />
</span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">While Daria went searching in the depths of the tent, I began feverishly scratching the other boxes to see if there were even any keys on my card. All I revealed were random pictures of airplanes, flashlights, and batteries. What </span></span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">was </span></span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">this mind-game?!<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><br />
</span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">That’s when I saw it. A cardboard box stashed behind a printer. It was full of “winning” flyers. So all of the flyers were winners, but they were distributed randomly. All of my dreams were crushed.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><br />
</span></span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj5_WPWI2RyFDrvFkFQ6a2LmgcS2CTL774J4QP76dQN_TVJttzHHSFLWQkbwoVOBUdVyxc7k4V2KzBLfjekmBgThEEhaVAp2_21z50iGuDjgDgPTOr5PLDIBtk86JexyqVY2FLN8zog_s/s1600/2010-Abraham-Lincoln-Presidential-Dollar-Obverse-Uncirculated.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><img border="0" height="173" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj5_WPWI2RyFDrvFkFQ6a2LmgcS2CTL774J4QP76dQN_TVJttzHHSFLWQkbwoVOBUdVyxc7k4V2KzBLfjekmBgThEEhaVAp2_21z50iGuDjgDgPTOr5PLDIBtk86JexyqVY2FLN8zog_s/s200/2010-Abraham-Lincoln-Presidential-Dollar-Obverse-Uncirculated.jpg" width="200" /></span></span></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://somethingaboutcoins.com/2010/10/28/2010-lincoln-dollar-coins-canadian-collector-coins-gold-exhibit/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">photo cred</span></a></td></tr>
</tbody></table><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><br />
</span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">Daria returned with three $1 coins with creepy faces of Abe Lincoln giving me </span></span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">the stank-eye</span></span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"> on the back.</span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">These weren’t even real gold!!</span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">I was hoping that I could </span></span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">at least</span></span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"> do Cash-For-Gold, but nooo.</span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">So this was the consolation prize they gave all the poor suckers who drove all the way up here just for this (or, who happened to be hanging out at the mall and then wandered across the parking lot, like me…)</span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">I was debating in my head if it was worth the gas money to get there to win $3, or if I had actually lost money in the process.</span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><br />
</span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">What kind of car do you drive? </span></span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">Daria interrupted my thought-process.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">A Mazda Protégé.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">Ohh okay.</span></span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"> Daria was clearly judging me. I wondered what my car said about me. Probably just that I’m a gullible teeny-bopper who likes to chill at the mall on Friday nights and waste her time claiming meaningless prizes.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><br />
</span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">I used my “Gold Coins” to buy a giant Slushee from 7-11 the next afternoon. At least I still have my pride.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiY5qNDHz0tfYiQsDVa5EoAv1da2mK3P6mL-ZP5Fv3IOd9uLKg28cCGh_6loUqpcaEbKodHg-19ngx24-1y2nvyH6zJmvH3gy4cx5vsKgf6qmgfiYGnNLdFIFLMPA_uKKSThr3zYNaLA_0/s1600/2006_0711_Slurpee.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiY5qNDHz0tfYiQsDVa5EoAv1da2mK3P6mL-ZP5Fv3IOd9uLKg28cCGh_6loUqpcaEbKodHg-19ngx24-1y2nvyH6zJmvH3gy4cx5vsKgf6qmgfiYGnNLdFIFLMPA_uKKSThr3zYNaLA_0/s1600/2006_0711_Slurpee.jpg" /></span></span></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://dcist.com/2006/07/11/dc_residents_fo.php"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">photo cred</span></a></td></tr>
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</div>Desire'http://www.blogger.com/profile/04283153571720955489noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7625133165248435512.post-36111229577709307832011-05-27T17:53:00.000-04:002011-05-27T17:53:04.997-04:00Canteen StickersMany people decorate their canteen with NOLS stickers or stickers of hikes they've done, places they've gone, etc. After all, the act of owning a canteen in itself implies that you put yourself in situations that require you to use said canteen (AKA: doing a lot of outdoors-y things). <br />
<br />
But not me. Case in point: I just added a <a href="http://www.monolocorestaurant.com/">Mono Loco</a> sticker to my canteen. That's right: I choose to decorate my canteen with stickers from restaurants I've eaten at. I use it as a supplement to my dining-out fetish. <i>No thanks, waiter, I don't need a drink, I have my canteen stashed in my purse</i>. (This is completely unfounded. I just came up with this idea, but I might actually start doing this...)<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRjyUA5oRQiPWL7LKLCGV7Re77yz4TmnrnWAY3XdBE5cUIFIDK3QrSHWP_FqfwJcwgwUgLgV3uY3JXgKGGKRm3sQV3M_ZFtlnCtHWdOdkzwCqriiw6OyhqL8K3VsZtFu2ozzOPLGOqG6Y/s1600/canteen.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRjyUA5oRQiPWL7LKLCGV7Re77yz4TmnrnWAY3XdBE5cUIFIDK3QrSHWP_FqfwJcwgwUgLgV3uY3JXgKGGKRm3sQV3M_ZFtlnCtHWdOdkzwCqriiw6OyhqL8K3VsZtFu2ozzOPLGOqG6Y/s320/canteen.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Anyways, if you've never been to Charlottesville, or even worse, if you live in Charlottesville and you haven't experienced the gloriousness that is the Mono Loco South American burrito, here is what you're missing out on:<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFEccH3qN5JORJa5-0u8MdgTqmjgBvR5stK4DkLpKgQS_crnA90b3j2iyMFDCtahkd964LhVQzOz42uIDiY_mbpRFozdP8taSTYdCFxm6zTOyPUHykcoLSU6cqiT3u9Hjrv9EusWW55uU/s1600/DSCI0062.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFEccH3qN5JORJa5-0u8MdgTqmjgBvR5stK4DkLpKgQS_crnA90b3j2iyMFDCtahkd964LhVQzOz42uIDiY_mbpRFozdP8taSTYdCFxm6zTOyPUHykcoLSU6cqiT3u9Hjrv9EusWW55uU/s320/DSCI0062.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>Desire'http://www.blogger.com/profile/04283153571720955489noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7625133165248435512.post-84166746417473572332011-05-20T08:33:00.001-04:002011-05-20T09:03:48.820-04:00Meeting David Sedaris<div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #b45f06;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Last month, I met one of my favorite people, David Sedaris!! Keeping in line with my usual routine when I'm nervous, I turned into a babbling idiot. I wrote the following essay for submission to a magazine with the theme "Saying Too Much." Keep your fingers crossed!</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #171717; font-family: 'Times New Roman';"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirOxSAQnQ3E9YwoFmeAc0LhyphenhyphenU45iVC7aHERnmFRWjq82jk4S9m_KexWmsfhP8BZ5SUIam-ukZLFAQHd8az_meL9sLVK7L8qtDhohGnGO5W04XU-ELQdUt-WSPaSoMvwKkpLy8liqoKvVU/s1600/DSCI0364.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirOxSAQnQ3E9YwoFmeAc0LhyphenhyphenU45iVC7aHERnmFRWjq82jk4S9m_KexWmsfhP8BZ5SUIam-ukZLFAQHd8az_meL9sLVK7L8qtDhohGnGO5W04XU-ELQdUt-WSPaSoMvwKkpLy8liqoKvVU/s320/DSCI0364.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #171717; font-family: 'Times New Roman';"><br />
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</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #171717;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Let’s face it. I’m no good at meeting famous people—especially ones who are my heroes. But when David Sedaris came into town to do a book reading and signing, I had to go. I had missed my chance at seeing him twice before and I wasn’t going to let that happen again. So there I was, snorting from laughing so hard, when he launched into excerpts from his journal. A majority of his entries were about people he had met during his book signings. He documented funny jokes people told him and made fun of the weirdos. At this point, I began to get nervous. I do NOT know any jokes...and I’m probably a weirdo.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #171717;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I waited in line for over an hour at the signing. The girl behind me was writing herself a script of what to say while the girl in front of me presented David with a manuscript she had written. To calm my nerves, I concentrated on memorizing the script along with the girl behind me. That way, I could recite it to David first, leaving her with </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">nothing</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">. And we all knew that arriving at the signing table with </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">nothing</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> guaranteed that you’d be the biggest embarrassment there.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #171717;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">By the time the big moment came, David was munching on a particularly large salad. As I approached the table, he asked me if I was Greek. No, I told him. My dad is Lebanese. Thus began the whirlwind that was my conversation with David Sedaris. Thankfully he did not ask me to tell him any jokes, but he did ask me if my dad had “one eyebrow” and “back-hair.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #171717;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“I have back hair. It sucks,” he added.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #171717;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“You should probably get that taken care of.” Did I really just say that?<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #171717;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">He asked me if I was in college and who I came with. I had to confess to him that I came alone. I didn’t want to tell him that I had plenty of friends who were interested in coming but that none of them wanted to cough up the money to pay for the pricey ticket, so I chose to let him think that I was a social outcast. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #171717;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Somewhere in-between providing a disjointed commentary on the benefits of psychological research and debating whether or not it was safe to travel to Lebanon (neither of which, I’m afraid, are topics of immediate interest to David Sedaris), I realized that I was in trouble. I had not paused to take a breathe in at least 2 minutes. Meanwhile, he was enjoying conveniently-timed bites of salad, chewing for what seemed like an eternity and staring me up and down, while I sweated profusely and rambled on. I had this illusion in my head that I was a stage-monkey. I was standing before him, expected to perform, and it was game on. Otherwise I was going to end up as some mythical figure, mocked through David Sedaris journal excerpts in book readings to come. Humorist-lovers around the globe would text their friends after a book reading: “David Sedaris told us all about this crazy fan at a book-signing in some little town in Virginia. She didn’t stop speaking for 40 minutes straight! After a while she forgot to breathe and the last 15 minutes of chatter spewed from a blue face.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #171717;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Unfortunately, I had already crossed that threshold.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #171717;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPhgsBZDyngH0ApHi0m78EV25F0QLUfxQzCYRfT4VXc9UeC5XTTD0y7s5ThNcILlj5LGrkNmkrgrsnRyouQxBsi4-NIDH3rtuUWuHvSDl2PIF1Wy0UJ3IXrJOzQeXWGrjbs-tddE1EH80/s1600/DSCI0366.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPhgsBZDyngH0ApHi0m78EV25F0QLUfxQzCYRfT4VXc9UeC5XTTD0y7s5ThNcILlj5LGrkNmkrgrsnRyouQxBsi4-NIDH3rtuUWuHvSDl2PIF1Wy0UJ3IXrJOzQeXWGrjbs-tddE1EH80/s320/DSCI0366.JPG" width="240" /></span></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #171717;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #171717;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">At one point he asked me where I was from and when I told him, he asked me where it was located.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #171717;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“About 2 hours southwest of here.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #171717;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Hmm where?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #171717;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Close to North Carolina, actually! Wait a second, you did a reading there a few years ago and I was bummed that I missed it.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #171717;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Oh I know, I’ve been there twice!” He was just messing with me now.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #171717;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">He began to tell me about how his boyfriend, Hugh, had lived in Beirut, when I interrupted him, interjecting my thoughts about who knows what. A red light was flashing in my head. </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">You just interrupted David Sedaris, who was about to tell you a story. Stop. Talking. Just. Stop. </span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But I continued to babble. I was obviously not built with an emergency break lever. I needed the equivalent of a runaway truck ramp for 18-wheeler trucks whose brakes have failed them. And I’m talking a serious one. One of those steep gravel hills with what appear to be a 90-degree incline that veer right off the road. Perhaps a brain-released chemical that paralyzed my tongue? Or a chip in my brain that turned on during emergency situations, enabling me to only give robotic responses: “Yes. Please. Thank you. It. Is. Nice. Outside. Today.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">In the end, I had brought my two favorite books with me and couldn’t decide which one I wanted him to sign. Typical. Ultimately, he signed both, and in one he simply drew a dog. I was in love. Sometimes words just aren’t necessary.</span><o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';"><br />
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</span></div>Desire'http://www.blogger.com/profile/04283153571720955489noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7625133165248435512.post-63747298273852419722011-05-19T23:20:00.001-04:002011-05-19T23:59:46.015-04:00In-Cognito RouxI know that I should quit posting about my cat, but my friend sent me <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PuW23sMVWEs&feature=youtube_gdata_player">THIS</a> video earlier and I feel the need to share. That looks JUST like my cat, Roux (well, Roux with a pop-tart body). I am so convinced that this is Roux that I'm now looking for ways to prove it. I have always wondered what Roux does while I'm at work, earning my living and being a contribution to society. Now I know. She has been busy crafting her image as a pop-tart-bodied youtube celebrity that poops rainbows. When I was unsure of who <a href="http://dessayz.blogspot.com/2011/04/freak-of-week-roux-deux.html">went through my underwear drawer</a>, I was thinking of ways in which I could catch the culprit in the act. Setting up a video camera didn't seem plausible, as I, 1. don't own one and 2. am cheap. Plus it would have to tape all day and I don't think any battery life would last that long. <br />
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</div><div>Then it occurred to me that I could buy Roux one of those animal collars that have cameras on them. Life from Roux's perspective. Riveting. And obviously had all the makings of <b>Reality-Show glory</b>. <i>Love</i> (the touching relationship between Roux and her Meow Mix). <i>Drama</i> (where WILL Roux nap today?) and <i>Adventure</i> (imagine a scene in which Roux's tiny paws are venturing into the unchartered territory that is my dresser, making their way to the apex and opening up my underwear drawer, tossing the contents like a salad).</div><div><br />
</div><div>However, it seems that Roux has beat me to the punch and is already forging her own career. My days as a stage mom are over. But once I somehow prove that this is, indeed, my cat in this video, I better get my cut.</div>Desire'http://www.blogger.com/profile/04283153571720955489noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7625133165248435512.post-34614739701090863172011-04-29T12:29:00.000-04:002011-04-29T12:29:24.261-04:00fill in the blank friday<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Happy Friday! As I'm still recuperating from my gall bladder surgery and trying to fight off an annoying head-cold, I am currently lazing in bed with a tall glass of orange juice and my favorite mug full of Black Chai Tea (I never have just one beverage) sitting next to me on my nightstand. And I'm watching a rebroadcast of The Royal Wedding on </span><a href="http://www.youtube.com/user/TheRoyalChannel"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The Royal Channel on Youtube</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">. Shhhh don't judge...I wasn't really into the whole thing--I just wanted to see Kate Middleton's dress and which designer she chose (and she did not disappoint...she wore Sarah Burton for Alexander McQueen?! love her) but now I'm completely roped in. Anyways, I've decided to participate in my first </span><a href="http://thelittlethingswedo.blogspot.com/2011/04/fill-in-blank-friday_28.html"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Fill In The Blank Friday</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">, so here we go!</span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYLfYz2eDCYHjVti_acfOxAHnyKgj0AM1Lt71a6lvnO4NJvFm9mA872U2H_zwzMI7YTf7b03Fqf49T-8kRJU0i8Jc6g1f8i9o37cgsG4pEjD_OR_gr2zO8fr-_FzBLKJ9qOaaxw9MZzgA/s1600/photo.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYLfYz2eDCYHjVti_acfOxAHnyKgj0AM1Lt71a6lvnO4NJvFm9mA872U2H_zwzMI7YTf7b03Fqf49T-8kRJU0i8Jc6g1f8i9o37cgsG4pEjD_OR_gr2zO8fr-_FzBLKJ9qOaaxw9MZzgA/s320/photo.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>1. </b></span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> I am looking forward to </span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="text-decoration: underline;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> music festivals! The music festival season is upon us, and to me, music festivals = summer. Looking forward to the warm weather, road-trips with friends, dancing, cute clothes (sundresses, sunglasses, headbands, etc etc), and of course the music. This is my first summer with a "real world" job, so I guess you could say this is my first non-summer, but I have no doubt that this summer will be great.</span></span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="text-decoration: underline;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">**Photo-Op:</span></span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="text-decoration: underline;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
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</span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="text-decoration: underline;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: none; color: #333333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>2. </b></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Something kind of embarassing that I still love anyway is <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">pretty much any trashy reality show on TV. After being cooped up inside for a week at my grandparents' house, I packed in a lot of TV-watching. Who knew that Audrina from The Hills (which my roommate/friend, Liz, and I watched religiously in college) now had her own show on VH1?! Caught up on all of those episodes. Then Saddle Ranch came on after that. Had never heard of it, but pretty sure I've seen that whole season now too. Oh, and whatever Kardashian show is out at the moment, you know I'm up to speed. Perhaps it's because I haven't had cable in 6 months, but I'm not gonna lie, I enjoyed all of it.</span></span></b></span></span></span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="text-decoration: underline;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: none; color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><br />
</span></b></span></span></span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="text-decoration: underline;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: none; color: #333333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: none; color: #333333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">3. </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My favorite car is </span></b></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">hmm this is a toughie. Cars are one area in which I've never felt particularly materialistic about or interested in. Don't get me wrong, I love my car (it's been with me since the dark ages of my learner's permit) but I haven't named it, nor do I have any sort of romanticized attachment to it. Although I will say that I think it's pretty cool that my car is a (Mazda) Proteg</span></span></b></span></span></b></span></span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #1c2a47;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><u>é, and my name is Desir</u></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #1c2a47;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><u>é. Names with accents stick together! I think we were made for each other. With all that said, I'll take </u></span><a href="http://www.newlaunches.com/archives/mercedes_benz_sl600_studded_with_thousands_of_swarovski_crystals.php"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">this</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><u> hahah</u></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #1c2a47; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-weight: bold;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #1c2a47; font-weight: bold;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-weight: normal; line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>4. </b></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">If I could pick one type of weather to live with for the rest of my life it would be</span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="text-decoration: underline;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="text-decoration: underline;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">the transition between spring and summer. Give me 70-75 degrees, bright sun, a slight breeze, and the day free to lounge outside for as long as I want without the threat of my hair frizzing (no humidity, please).</span></span></span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #1c2a47; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-weight: bold;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-weight: normal; line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="text-decoration: underline;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444;"><br />
</span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #1c2a47; font-weight: bold;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-weight: normal; line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="text-decoration: underline;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: none; color: #333333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>5. </b></span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My favorite thing to do after a bad/stressful day is </span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> to treat myself to tasty dinner, a glass of white wine, and a bubble bath.</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #1c2a47; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 20px; font-weight: bold;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 13px; font-weight: normal; line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="text-decoration: underline;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: none; color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><br />
</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #1c2a47; font-weight: bold;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-weight: normal; line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="text-decoration: underline;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: none; color: #333333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: none; color: #333333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">6. This weekend </span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="text-decoration: underline;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> I will be going to pizza and game night; will be waking up bright and early tomorrow morning for breakfast (mimosas, strawberries, eggs, and TWO types of bacon, anyone?!), and (hopefully--if I feel better) going to </span><a href="http://www.foxfieldraces.com/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Foxfield</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">; will be relaxing, cleaning, reading magazines, and drinking lots of tea.</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #1c2a47; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-weight: bold;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-weight: normal; line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="text-decoration: underline;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: none; color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: none; color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="text-decoration: underline;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><br />
</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #1c2a47; font-weight: bold;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-weight: normal; line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="text-decoration: underline;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: none; color: #333333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: none; color: #333333;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="text-decoration: underline;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: none; color: #333333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>7.</b></span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> If I were a color, I'd be </span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="text-decoration: underline;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> green</span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="text-decoration: underline;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">because, </span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="text-decoration: underline;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> it's my favorite color, and on a good day, the color of my eyes.</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #1c2a47; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 20px; font-weight: bold;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 13px; font-weight: normal; line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="text-decoration: underline;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: none; color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: none; color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="text-decoration: underline;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: none; color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-size: 13px; line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="text-decoration: underline;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><br />
</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #1c2a47; font-weight: bold;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-weight: normal; line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="text-decoration: underline;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: none; color: #333333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: none; color: #333333;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="text-decoration: underline;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: none; color: #333333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="text-decoration: underline;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Cheers!</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqszvljik8F-_nnYLisj9TifVAoWaAaGDAvjqb7E3akgredR2WE_K9V3eus2cHFdhplzlu0oWmfUrnrjTy5ZV0vBZno1QenG1Xii4eQTBm7HNxRIO852J1CWD-_udTAVqYCKrhOofzZ40/s1600/Photo+on+2011-04-29+at+11.22+%25232.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqszvljik8F-_nnYLisj9TifVAoWaAaGDAvjqb7E3akgredR2WE_K9V3eus2cHFdhplzlu0oWmfUrnrjTy5ZV0vBZno1QenG1Xii4eQTBm7HNxRIO852J1CWD-_udTAVqYCKrhOofzZ40/s320/Photo+on+2011-04-29+at+11.22+%25232.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Shout-out to Jenny for giving me this glorious mug for my Birfday this year!</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #1c2a47; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 20px; font-weight: bold;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 13px; font-weight: normal; line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="text-decoration: underline;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: none; color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: none; color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="text-decoration: underline;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: none; color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-size: 13px; line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="text-decoration: underline;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><br />
</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div>Desire'http://www.blogger.com/profile/04283153571720955489noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7625133165248435512.post-87226788858978209632011-04-27T19:06:00.001-04:002011-04-27T19:58:51.446-04:00Freak of the Week: Roux Deux<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My cat is insane. If you haven't already done so, please read </span><a href="http://dessayz.blogspot.com/2010/09/exploits-of-ms-rouxmeanas-mohern.html"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">this</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> for proof. I was hoping that moving into my new apartment would change things. Change in scenery = change in cat personality? Nah. I think the cat-equivalent of the saying "you can't teach an old dog new tricks" is "once a psycho, always a psycho." Things were going well for the first couple of months and it seemed as though Roux had actually transformed. She was even taking naps in my lap (an improvement considering that usually anyone who gets within one foot of Roux comes back bleeding). However, this was all some sort of mind-game. She wanted to ensure that I was completely unsuspecting, so that when she finally struck, all of her antics achieved maximum impact.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It all started primitively. I came home from work one night to a trail of tiny toilet paper shreds, leading from the bathroom, down the hall, and into my bedroom, where it morphed into an explosion. Was Roux trying a Hansel and Gretal tactic so that she could find her way back to her litter box? This seemed highly unlikely, but I tried to give her the benefit of the doubt, since we hadn't had any issues for a while. But she didn't stop there.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">A couple nights later, I heard a paper bloodbath taking place in my bedroom--the sounds of ripping and shredding echoing throughout my apartment. I walked in to find Roux eating one of my drawings that she had torn down from my wall. I threw the drawing on my dresser and told Roux to stop it (as if she knew what I was saying). I resumed my place on the couch when I heard her ripping another drawing. I ran into my bedroom and turned on the light, but Roux was nowhere to be found. I picked up her second victim and turned out the light. With the flick of the switch, Roux came darting out from beneath my bed and attacked my legs. A perfectly-timed ambush! She was standing on her hind legs, biting at my calfs and digging her front claws into my sweatpants. I. was. terrified. Later that night, Roux got the boot and I made her sleep on the couch (yes, we're a dysfunctional couple). The battle had begun.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The next week, Roux was hiding in her favorite spot in the rafters of my ceiling (I live in a converted warehouse, so the building's original wooden beams and piping run throughout the space). She was pawing at something so I took a step closer so I could see what it was. I couldn't tell so I started walking away when I heard a loud thud. I turned around to see what had happened and saw a broken painter's knife lying on the floor. Clearly whoever had painted the ceiling had left the knife up there, but it was clear to me what was really going on. Roux was trying to assassinate me. If I wouldn't have stepped away, who knows where that painter's tool would have landed!</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But nothing could have prepared me for what happened a few days later. I came home after work and went into my bedroom to change...</span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">that's when I saw it</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">. My two top dresser drawers are skinny, and I keep my underwear in one and my bras in the other. Both drawers were open and all of my underwear were dumped in my bra drawer, and my underwear and bras were tossed like a salad. My initial thought was that a pervert had broken into my apartment and gone through my underwear (I'm not sure if that ACTUALLY happens, but I've seen it happen on Lifetime movies). I immediately called my mom, freaking out and screaming "A PERVERT HAS COME INTO MY APARTMENT!" The first question my mom asked was if anything was missing. "I DON'T KNOW I DON'T TAKE INVENTORY OF MY UNDERWEAR DRAWER!" I looked around the apartment and nothing else had been messed with. Something wasn't adding up. Meanwhile, Roux was perched in my windowsill, calmly watching my spaz attack:</span><br />
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</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It was suddenly all too clear to me. I peeked into the empty underwear drawer and it was padded with gray fur. I don't know how Roux opened my drawers, but she cleared out my underwear drawer so she could nest!! The next night I came home to find my underwear drawer cracked open an inch and all of my underwear strewn about on the floor. At least she was being a polite pervert this time, attempting to shut the drawer back after her break-in.</span></div>Desire'http://www.blogger.com/profile/04283153571720955489noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7625133165248435512.post-7389361620362849492011-04-26T01:25:00.004-04:002011-04-26T01:27:37.546-04:00New Blog Design!<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">My apologies for posting so sporadically! I recently underwent gall-bladder surgery (a post is on the way!) and I've been super busy at work...but today I took some time and revamped my blog and created my first buttons! Please let me know what you think!!</span><br />
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</div>Desire'http://www.blogger.com/profile/04283153571720955489noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7625133165248435512.post-88727296739912871452011-04-23T11:15:00.002-04:002011-04-26T00:44:00.328-04:0014 Years Later & I'm Uncool In Elementary School<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">10-year-olds are my bullies. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I work for a Psychology Lab that collects research on children and families, and part of my job requires me to go to elementary schools and observe children on the playground. Basically, I'm paid to stalk kids. A couple of weeks ago, I was doing my first school visit unsupervised. I was slightly nervous and wanted everything to go well. I had managed to sign in with the front office, navigate my way to the playground, and begin the observation.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">oOoOo this is going alright! yay me! I thought as I stared down at my stop-watch. Then, out of nowhere, WACK. A huge kickball nailed me in the side of my face. Stunned, and a little dizzy, I turned to my right to see a group of boys pointing and laughing at me. As if this wasn't already bad enough, one of the boys scurried up to me, screamed "THAT WAS WEIRD!" in his little nasally voice, and took off running. It was in that moment that I realized that 14 years later, and I was uncool in elementary school. I know I shouldn't have been embarrassed, as I'm more than twice these kids' age. Ultimately I straightened myself up, laughed it off, and finished the observation (with slight traces of kickball track marks imprinted on my cheek).</span><br />
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</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Things only got worse at my little sister's 10th Birthday Party the following weekend. I was excited to meet all of her friends and celebrate her entering double-digits! I was still getting ready when the kids started to arrive, and every now and then I would catch a few of them peeking their heads through the crack in the bathroom door, watching me straightening my hair or applying mascara. To them I was the mysterious older sister, offering insight into the teenage world. That is, until my little sister told them that I was 23. Then they lost all interest. Apparently I peaked at 17. Once I crossed the threshold into "ancient" territory, they came up with the grand idea of playing pranks on me. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">They began by scattering and hiding throughout the house. As I walked down the hallway, they each popped out from a different hiding place, screaming and poking at me. Then they backed me into a corner and rubbed their nasty bare feet all over me!! One of the first things you will learn about me, if you don't already know, is that I HATE feet. They are my biggest pet peeve/fear. It was Game. Over.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Later on, my mom asked me to go outside and spray all of the girls' hair with spray glitter because they were playing dress-up. Easy enough, I thought. But when I walked outside, I was ambushed! They chased me down, tackled me to the ground, and sprayed glitter all over me. While seeking refuge, with my unnaturally gleaming hair and my deep coughs from the fumes, I realized that I needed to accept my fate of being easy prey for the brutal beings that are 10-year-old girls.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">After her party, my little sister was watching me buy a ticket to see David Sedaris. A ticket...for one. There are certain things that I just cannot go to alone but I decided that a book-reading isn't one of them. While I was spazzing over making sure I entered all of my credit card information during their unreasonable time limit, my little sister thought it appropriate to provide a commentary on my existence:</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">"Look at your life, Des. You live alone. In a warehouse. With your cat. And you listen to weird music." </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">"What's so bad about that?!" </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I'll never be cool among the 10-year-old generation. I'll just go back to my warehouse apartment, play with my crazy cat, and listen to my weird music. Oh yeah, and avoid eye-contact and speed-walk when in the vicinity of a 10-year-old.</span></div>Desire'http://www.blogger.com/profile/04283153571720955489noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7625133165248435512.post-24007737956721071082011-03-07T23:38:00.001-05:002011-03-08T00:48:50.248-05:00Things on WheelsI've come to the realization that things on wheels are way cooler than things that are stationary. Let me explain.<br />
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I love books. I always have. In fact, today I once again fell victim to a ridiculous habit that I've kept for years now--I finished a book, and to celebrate, I rewarded myself by buying 3 new books. Fail. Anyways, when I was a child, the only thing more exciting than my weekly trip to the library to pick up the latest addition to <i>The Saddle Club</i> series or a <i>Boxcar Children</i> mystery, was when the <b>Bookmobile </b>made its rounds in my neighborhood. The only thing cooler than books? Books on wheels. If you were not fortunate enough to experience the little slice of Heaven that was the <b>Bookmobile </b>as a child, then I feel sorry for you, because that's equivalent to a childhood without candy or puppies. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Scratch out "Kentucky" and pencil in "Virginia," and this is what my Bookmobile looked like.<br />
Photo-cred to <a href="http://lewiscountylibrary.net/">Lewis County Library</a></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqJ7ft2ibV4rZZr3gZ3YZO941TOZhCjcrs5KyPN3EOa2kZ5wZ9PeCfNjHI_cd-uRxEGAPnsYqIz14X-YXiSoK75SJGuqG2uN7sPiekINXNncxjrtBRVatdO2LzDujHCipY6VkpB9KomFU/s1600/bookmobile1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="217" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqJ7ft2ibV4rZZr3gZ3YZO941TOZhCjcrs5KyPN3EOa2kZ5wZ9PeCfNjHI_cd-uRxEGAPnsYqIz14X-YXiSoK75SJGuqG2uN7sPiekINXNncxjrtBRVatdO2LzDujHCipY6VkpB9KomFU/s320/bookmobile1.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">What I'm going to pretend my Bookmobile looked like, because it's way better.<br />
Photo-cred to <a href="http://magnetreps.com/">Magnet Reps</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>Sure, it was hot and cramped<b>, </b>and things may have gotten a little cut-throat while scavenging through the <b>Bookmobile</b>'s 6 shelves to find the perfect book before some other kid with a ripped library card, (he was clearly less dedicated to the cause than I was) snagged it. But the <b>Bookmobile </b>was genius and way ahead of its time.<br />
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As if I need more proof about why things on wheels are cooler, let me tell you what happened when I was in my hometown, Roanoke, this past summer. I was driving downtown to loiter at all the usual places, when a man wearing a cowboy hat and cruising down the sidewalk caught my eye. However, he wasn't riding a bike or anything that I could identify as ever having seen before. He appeared to be riding a cooler, mounted onto a Razor scooter. I didn't understand. Naturally, I pulled along side of him and took a frantic picture with my cell phone before speeding off:<br />
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Obviously it didn't turn out too well, but you get the idea. I contemplated feeling awkward about doing this, but then quickly decided that if he was going to ride around on a COOLER, than he should expect to have people gawking and taking pictures. After doing my research, I discovered that <i>Cruzin Cooler</i>, as it's officially called, is a phenomenon! Please <a href="http://www.cruzincooler.com/">check this out</a>. Some of my favorite amenities include: 13 mph top speed, aluminum rims, spring-loaded foot pegs, 24+ can capacity, and a trailer hitch. So from what I gather, the beauty of the <i>Cruzin Cooler</i> is that you can ride at a leisurely pace of 13 mph for about 20 miles before the cooler runs out of gas/electricity (so many options!), where you will then be stuck with 24 cans of soda/beer (at least they're cold, right?!) Congratulations to the makers of <i>Cruzin Cooler</i>, who made coolers so hilarious that they're cool.<br />
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My latest craze on wheels is called <a href="http://lastcalldogs.com/index.html">Last Call Dogs</a> (we pronounce it "Dewgs," but you may say it however you like). It's a bright yellow truck that drives around the Charlottesville area on the weekends, selling hotdogs from 10pm-2am. <i>Last Call Dogs</i> always magically appears at the best times. When we emerge from dancing at 90s night, there's <i>Last Call Dogs</i>, waiting in front of the bar, ready to sustain us with delicious cuisine.<br />
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There's a lot of late-night food competition on The Corner in Charlottesville (ie: <i>Christian's</i> pizza, Gus burgers from the <i>White Spot</i>...<i>Qdoba</i>'s even getting in on the action and now stays open until 3!) Even though it doesn't get much better than a slice of <i>Christian's, Last Call Dogs </i>wins...because it's on wheels. You really can't beat a traveling hotdog stand.Desire'http://www.blogger.com/profile/04283153571720955489noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7625133165248435512.post-41607283988009458032011-03-02T01:16:00.003-05:002011-03-02T01:45:17.353-05:00Wig ItWhen the weather is nice, one of my favorite things to do around Charlottesville is to go wine-tasting. My vineyard of choice is called Veritas:<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I've spent a few fun afternoons at Veritas, but the trip I took with my friend, Chad, this past fall, remains the most absurd. It all began as soon as we got in the car.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Me: "It smells weird in here."</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Chad: "It smells like poop."</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Me: "You're right!! It really does!!"</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Chad: "It smells like a lot of poop!"</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Me: "Seriously, WHAT is THAT?! This is getting out of control."</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Chad: "I feel like I'm rolling around in poop."</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">At this point we started to frantically search the car. I heard Chad scream and my eyes darted to the floorboard on the Driver's side, where he was staring in horror. There was dog poop everywhere. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">"AAHH I must have stepped in it in the yard!!! It's EVERYWHERE! What do we do?!!" </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Panicked, I started screaming and threw myself against the window. I was panting on the glass, gasping for any hint of untainted air. I pulled at the door handle and fell out onto the asphalt. Meanwhile, Chad had gone through a similar process and was now running around looking for a natural equivalent to a paper-towel; a leaf, a stick, a wad of grass, a stray paper bag. Chad cleaned up his shoes and placemat as best as he could, and we pressed on; riding to Veritas with the windows down.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">We stopped at this cute grocer that is on the way to the vineyard, called Greenwood Grocery. The wrap-around porch was overflowing with lawn decorations, pumpkins, and colorful gourds. We bought a box of crackers and a wedge of my favorite cheese, Midnight Moon, to take with us. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYgGFJHpK4zy5_oub_gVd4qCdcp0RVP8nsgMElodf_0v8ZZPzEynw-CyfPbJlKF0SW9Z8kpDmoJjoz77c0WA3Tjz-TCn8UYYmghkf0XU_vTefk4pVQW6cHqByfqCpjM2bpGAZVUa1RqrQ/s1600/veritas.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYgGFJHpK4zy5_oub_gVd4qCdcp0RVP8nsgMElodf_0v8ZZPzEynw-CyfPbJlKF0SW9Z8kpDmoJjoz77c0WA3Tjz-TCn8UYYmghkf0XU_vTefk4pVQW6cHqByfqCpjM2bpGAZVUa1RqrQ/s320/veritas.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3JXtdJnMgG6WqOeIb0p8RFucrQsc9Mx1wNxmhPXylNJ51LR_ZwxgQg7UiuJ3VgMFuLUQ5pAxV0RtB822mIq2aou6hn7EoTTmKuGZneWtRpeVmL5pqacebUolbJlwHbIrqv0EmhHDy7_A/s1600/DSCI0012.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3JXtdJnMgG6WqOeIb0p8RFucrQsc9Mx1wNxmhPXylNJ51LR_ZwxgQg7UiuJ3VgMFuLUQ5pAxV0RtB822mIq2aou6hn7EoTTmKuGZneWtRpeVmL5pqacebUolbJlwHbIrqv0EmhHDy7_A/s320/DSCI0012.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Once at Veritas, we unpacked our cheese and crackers and uncorked a bottle of Red Star, setting up our picnic on one of the tables on the porch. We were having a great time, when I noticed the baby at the table next to us. It had A LOT of hair. It was tiny, weighing maybe 10 pounds, with its squinty eyes poking out beneath this dark mop of hair. I'm pretty sure the hair weighed more than the baby.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">"Psst, Chad!"</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">"What?"</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">"Look at that baby behind you. Do you think that's its real hair?"</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Chad turned around. "Oh my god!!"</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">"I think it's wearing a wig!! There's no way that's real!"</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Just then, two women walked up to the couple with the wiggin' baby. "Look at that full head of hair!!" This was painfully obvious to me. The mother passed the baby over to the father, allowing me to get a full view of the haircut. This baby had layers in the back and sweeping bangs across-the-forehead!! To make matters worse, I realized that the baby had the exact same haircut as its dad, who was sporting a mid-20s hipster 'do. I needed documentation and to consult back-up, but all I had was my cell phone. I made Chad pose as if I was taking a picture of him, but really focused my phone's camera on the baby. I couldn't zoom in far enough, and, just like that, Operation Sneaky Picture was a failure.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I couldn't bare it any longer. "We need to figure this out. Maybe I'll walk by and tug on the hair...see if it comes off."</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Chad: "Let's be more subtle about this. I'll just walk up to the mom and say 'Great haircut! Where do you get it done?' and when she thanks me and starts talking about her own hairdresser, I'll cut her off and say 'Oh no no, your baby's!'"</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhol70z2NPW6ls9Ex4UUeRC2j4V0jvw_IlXXueSO18ptONnEnJd9uY5rtg_1q-yuI2EjqSGs8zWhyqeqQV8_3EZBkpJ-U5K-lm3y-Kq0xxrAtBkdqwhoUHCiQZjf7C3kmMEcqmxppD5Q3s/s1600/suzveritas2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhol70z2NPW6ls9Ex4UUeRC2j4V0jvw_IlXXueSO18ptONnEnJd9uY5rtg_1q-yuI2EjqSGs8zWhyqeqQV8_3EZBkpJ-U5K-lm3y-Kq0xxrAtBkdqwhoUHCiQZjf7C3kmMEcqmxppD5Q3s/s320/suzveritas2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
PS: In case anyone was wondering...yes, this did happen once:<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXh_sMSslJt6y5HQgfwU8di3U_T4tI5TXOhATC_6Z9oG-gEXNCuyoh-p5j4mfyzDD8krdO6WHLm_z5NP0UNIchyphenhyphenAA5pcPyfeFnnPzN1izsoGhwT0HObbtfzr2-YOF8itEVXw4W6KovjFg/s1600/14542_682129659546_1528576_41359953_1583919_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXh_sMSslJt6y5HQgfwU8di3U_T4tI5TXOhATC_6Z9oG-gEXNCuyoh-p5j4mfyzDD8krdO6WHLm_z5NP0UNIchyphenhyphenAA5pcPyfeFnnPzN1izsoGhwT0HObbtfzr2-YOF8itEVXw4W6KovjFg/s320/14542_682129659546_1528576_41359953_1583919_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Desire'http://www.blogger.com/profile/04283153571720955489noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7625133165248435512.post-91735910776800989632011-02-22T01:35:00.003-05:002011-02-24T00:32:57.524-05:00The RaptorI love a good bike. And not really because all the cool kids have them or because they're environmentally friendly, but mainly because they're fun to ride and I think they're cute (add a basket and a bell to anything and I'll think it's cute). However, bikes and I are not meant for each other as I would like to think. The Universe has been pulling us apart ever since I can remember.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">(Photo Cred to Suuuz!)</td></tr>
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Rewind to my childhood. The first time I was allowed to ride my bike by myself to my friend's house on the next street over was a BIG deal. Naturally, I wore my denim overalls, smilie face tshirt, Adidas bucket hat, and Platform Sketchers to commemorate the occassion. Did I mention that I was really cool in the 4th grade? The Spice Girls were trendsetters back then, so when I say Platform Sketchers, I mean Sketcher "tennis shoes" lifted off the ground by a 2 inch rubber sole and elevated even more by some plastic, transparent bubbles. To top it off, these shoes had thick, clumsy shoe laces. All around a bad call. I started riding my bike, but by the time I got to the end of our street, the shoelaces on my clunkers had come untied and were wrapped around the pedals, imprisoning my feet. I was no longer able to pedal and I simply collapsed, bike and all. Game. Over. Needless to say, I never made it to my friend's house. I was just hoping that none of my neighbors were peeking out from behind their blinds.<br />
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But this didn't deter me. A couple months later, I was waiting outside of my house for neighbor to come over, because we were going to go *gasp* bike-riding. You would think that I would have developed some sort of phobia by this point or have been classically conditioned to scream/run and take cover at the sign of any bike near me. But no no, not me. My neighbor showed up on his bike, swerving and pretending that he was going to hit me if I didn't get out of the way. Because he was playing around I just laughed and stood there. The next thing I knew, I woke up face-down on the ground, my face hugging the hot asphalt. My hands, elbows, sides, and knees were dripping blood and I crawled to my front door, only slightly defeated and not ready to give up on biking.<br />
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In High School, one of my friends, Patrick, and I, decided to go biking down the Blue Ridge Parkway. I didn't own a bike at the time, but he assured me that it was no problem and that he would bring his old bike. He failed to mention that it was his old bike circa 1995. Now, I'm short, but this bike was made for elementary-school Desire'. But I was in no position to be picky. So I climbed onto <i>The Raptor </i>(a glorious name, I might add) and took off. The first part of the route was downhill and I didn't even have to pedal. <i>This is a breeze. I could get used to this, </i>I thought. Then we turned around to pedal back and my tune quickly changed. The fact that I was cruising on a child's bike became painfully evident (literally). I was hunched over the handlebars, and with each pedal I kneed myself in the boobs. Patrick lapped me twice before coming back to check on me, pouring sweat and kneeing my boobs, trying to prove that I could make it. There was no way. I finally gave up and started walking, which ended up being a much faster method of travel.<br />
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A few months later, I was ready to give biking another go. I went to my friend, Kristen's, house because she had an extra bike to lend to me. When I got there, I immediately noticed that her extra bike was adult-size. Step 1. I thought we were ready to take off, but then Kristen informed me that my tires were low and she needed to put more air in them. They looked fine to me, but what do I know about bikes? So I let her do her thing. Kristen proceeded to deflate both of the tires on my bike before coming to the realization that she had no idea how to work the air pump. "Screw biking. Wanna go inside and eat donuts instead?" I couldn't argue with that.<br />
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Fast forward to last month. My little sister bought me a bike for Christmas and had it shipped to my apartment. However, when I opened the box I discovered that the bike was in PIECES. I couldn't believe that they had shipped me a bunch of bike parts! I know NOTHING about assembling bikes, and I decided that it wasn't safe to put all of my weight on something that I had put together. So I let the box sit in the corner of my living room until a couple awesome friends put it together for me. Kristen came to visit this weekend and brought her bike with her in anticipation of a leisurely ride during the short-lived warm weather.<br />
"Bike ride?" She asked.<br />
"Hmmm my tires need air." I replied.<br />
"Wanna go eat instead?"<br />
"Yep."<br />
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Maybe biking isn't for me.Desire'http://www.blogger.com/profile/04283153571720955489noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7625133165248435512.post-22974112025805907312010-10-04T01:48:00.002-04:002010-10-04T02:14:53.334-04:00Freak of the Week: Round 3This week's edition is a throwback and a double-whammy. I'm naming the girl who subletted my roommate, Patrick's, room last summer AND her crazy friend as the honorary Freaks of the Week. Patrick found Jess, the subletter, on Craigslist. Red Flag #1. She needed to sublet a room for a month because she was taking a summer class. She told Patrick and I that her name was Jess, but her Email Address, friends, family, and Facebook account all referred to her as Susan. In an attempt to retain some level of tact, I've changed BOTH of her names. But I will say that her two actual names were equally unrelated, meaning that, just like the names I've used here, the name she gave us could, in no way, be a nick-name for her real (?) name. The fact that she gave us a fake name and made no attempts to hide it was Red Flag #2.<br />
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To say that Jess had a lot of weird traits was an understatement. She barely spoke at all, and when she did, she whispered. I would have to lean in close and ask her to repeat everything she said at least three times whenever she spoke to me. Also, she functioned only in the dark. I literally never saw her turn a single light on. She made food in the kitchen in the dark, used the bathroom in the dark. I would come home and turn a lamp on in the living room and as soon as I left the room for five seconds she would switch it back off. She also wore long flowy skirts or pants, long-sleeved shirts or sweatshirts, tennis shoes and hats every day. And this was a HOT summer, pushing 100 degrees daily. The kind of hot that makes you miserable. I guess Jess liked it that way, because she made it her personal goal to ensure that our apartment was hotter than it was outdoors. By the end of the first week of her stay, we were on par with the Amazon. Our apartment didn't have Central Air, and the only form of A/C we had were window units in our bedrooms. Patrick and I developed a useful strategy of keeping our bedroom doors open and blasting our respective A/C units to circulate air flow. Jess didn't believe in such practices. She kept the doors to Patrick's bedroom closed at all times. The only time she ever left the apartment was to go to class, so during that time I would open the doors to Patrick's room and turn the A/C down from the 80 that she kept it on to 60. I wasn't paying for her to have heat in the summertime. Once she came home, she promptly locked herself up in Patrick's room...A/C set back to 80 and doors shut. I learned to bask in the glory of those measily 3 hours she spent in class daily.<br />
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Every time I ventured into Patrick's room, coated in sweat and grasping for the A/C knob as I saw spots--delirious from being overheated, I found something new and alarming about the room's condition. The first time I went in, I was in shock. Food and clothes were everywhere. The clothes I could forgive. After all, my desk chair is dressed for the week and a pile of skirts basically serve as my comforter, so who am I to judge? But the food? Empty Capri Sun packets, noodle packages, and juice boxes strewn across every available inch of space from the floor to the desk. Three of my bowls, empty, laying on the bed, cuddled by two full bottles of Cranberry juice. Doesn't this girl believe in a fridge?? And, to top it all off, two bags of grapes rotting on the floor. Random grapes had escaped from the bag and were scattered about. Runaway grapes! They were smushed and red grape juice stained the hardwood. Apparently Jess spent her evenings trying to make wine.<br />
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One day, I noticed a pill bottle sitting on Patrick's desk. Yes, I may have been a little too nosy, but if this girl had some sort of mental instability, I needed to know. So I checked the label. It read: <em>Take one every four hours as needed for claustrophobia and anxiety on planes.</em> There was only one pill left. How many planes had she been on?! On another excurision into unknown territory I discovered that Patrick's mirror had been taken off the wall and placed face-down on the dresser. It was around this time that I started forming my theories about Jess. The clothes covering her entire body when she went out in the daylight. The dark apartment. The turned-over mirror. It was all starting to add up all too well: she was a VAMPIRE. It made sense to me now. And, I'm not ashamed to admit, I was terrified for my life.<br />
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It only got worse from there. On my quest for A/C the next day, I found a hand saw lying in the middle of the bedroom floor. I couldn't sleep at all that night, as I was convinced that Jess was going to burst into my room and saw me to death. I had made a secret call for help to Patrick from the bathroom, telling him about the vamp saw and how he had put me in a deathtrap. His response<em>? I'm sure she just likes to make...um...bird-houses? </em>I told him that I was blaming him if I went missing in the middle of the night.<br />
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Jess only had one friend; a guy from her class who she never actually introduced me to. He called her Susan and came to the apartment anywhere between 3 and 5 times a day to cook her meals and serve them to her while she laid in Patrick's bed. I wanted to ask her where I could get a friend like that. One morning I was reading a magazine and eating cereal in a tank-top and underwear. Yes, I was pants-less. Jess was already gone and I assumed she was at class. Suddenly, her friend came bursting through our front door without knocking. I didn't even realize it was unlocked. He awkwardly started asking me all kinds of questions about where she was, when she had left, what she was doing. I had no idea, considering I had only heard two whispers out of her all week. I gave quick answers, trying to get him out of there so that he wouldn't have the image of me pants-less burned into his memory. Shifting his eyes down to my legs, he screamed, "Oh! Oh, sorry! Sorry I didn't knock first!" He walked back outside the door and shut it behind him. I thought I was rid of him. No, no. Things couldn't have been THAT easy. Then, he knocked on the door twice and let himself back into the apartment. He did a Make-Up Knock!! It was the weirdest thing I've ever witnessed and I started laughing at the absurdity of it all. He proceeded to bolt out of the apartment...for real this time.<br />
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Jess came home a little while later, and greeted me with a whisper: "Wash your hands, I'm sick." Naturally, I couldn't hear her, so I thought she had said "Watch your pants," assuming that her friend had already briefed her on what happened. I screamed, "I will not watch my pants! You watch your friends!" She looked baffled. "I have mono," she whispered as she shut herself in Patrick's room. When she finally emerged to get a snack, I heard a loud thud in the kitchen, followeed by "Cabinet's broke." She scampered back into the bedroom and I went into the kitchen to inspect the damage. One of the cabinets was open and hanging by one hinge--the screws had fallen on the counter. <em>What did she do</em>, I thought. <em>Go for a ride? </em>Why was she swinging on my cabinet doors? The metal front to the door of the dishwasher was also dangling. I placed the toolkit my Grandpa (Poppy) had gotten me for Christmas on the counter so that she could fix the cabinet. Of course she never did, and the next day I found myself balancing on a step-stool trying to adjust the bottom hinge on the cabinet door, dripping sweat and thinking about how I should invest in some garlic or Holy Water. And if that didn't work, I could always buy a chainsaw, which everyone knows one-ups a hand saw.Desire'http://www.blogger.com/profile/04283153571720955489noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7625133165248435512.post-41656447555658887392010-09-28T00:01:00.007-04:002010-09-29T23:40:05.620-04:00The Exploits of Ms. Rouxmeanas Mohern<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Cambria;"> </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">My cat’s full name is Rouxmeanas Mohern and she is out to ruin my life. Let me explain. One humid night during the summer between my Second and Third years of college, my stepdad found Rouxmeanas stashed behind the rear tire of my mom’s car in our driveway. After he brought her in the house, she quickly took refuge in my room. I’ve been stuck with her ever since. It didn’t take long for us to discover that she was a unique cat. A cat with such a crazy personality deserves a crazy name, right? Well, that’s how things ended up. Johnny Depp is my favorite actor and in the movie </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Chocolat </span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">he plays a gypsy named Roux. So, even though she’s a female feline and not a long-haired, guitar-playing man, that’s what I wanted to name her. My eight-year-old sister had her own opinion. She wanted to name the cat “Meana” because she’s mean, and, according to my sister, adding an “a” onto the end of the name clearly makes it feminine. Eventually we compromised, putting both names together to make “Rouxmeana”. I took Rouxmeanas back to college with me, and my roommate and I decided to pluralize her name because, for some reason, we thought it sounded better. </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Rouxmeanas </span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">was born. Her name had gotten so ridiculous by this point that we just wanted to keep it going. We decided that she needed a last name, too. Thus, we combined our last names and came up with Mohern.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">The first problem with Rouxmeanas is that we have opposite schedules. She likes to sleep all day; on my pillow, on the couch, under the coffee table. Anywhere, really, as long as she is in my visual vicinity. Even when she’s under my bed she allows a limb to protrude, ensuring its visibility; the tip of her tail, a paw, an ear. I think she does this to taunt me. While I’m at class, cleaning the apartment, cooking dinner, slaving over a research paper, or cramming for a test, Rouxmeanas is undoubtedly catching some Zs. I recently began noticing that Rouxmeanas’ breathing was accompanied by a raspy noise while she was sleeping. At first I was concerned because I thought she might have a sinus defect or a kitty cold. But that heavy breathing soon morphed into full-blown snoring, which I’m now sure is all just a part of her plan to rub her laid-back life in my face.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Roux begins her day around 10:30 P.M. She wants me to pet her, she wants to feast on copious amounts of </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Meow Mix</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> or </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Whiskas</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">, and most of all, she wants to play. She bolts around the apartment as if it’s her own personal jungle. She gets a running start and jumps onto my desk chair, using her sharp talons to stealthily scale her way to the top, all the while thrashing her head about in every direction and biting the air, never taking a bright yellow eye off of me while I sit petrified on my bed. I haven’t seen a scene like this since </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Jurassic Park</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">. Once she’s championed her way to the top she jumps from my chair to my dresser, where she finds some prize (one of my earrings, a nail file, a hair tie) to bring back down to the ground with her. She runs laps around the living room, jumping from coffee table to couch to windowsill to other couch to floor. And repeat. She’ll sneak up behind me while I’m lying on the couch watching a movie and start biting my head or eating my hair. All of this would be tolerable if it wasn’t for her “Desiré’s Trying to Sleep Right Now” routine.</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNtynS79pEPP_yJaLC_cZiMKZz4iaGoFkwSBvJG1vmP1Hthgp1ukHt4A86XeFOJWR63vKlA8uwfScTOZKlsA-iYp2WYy7cW4CKF47mEb5HbFWDGHDKHzMt6mWYwQYJdSxutdS5D_5zdms/s1600/rouxcreepz.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNtynS79pEPP_yJaLC_cZiMKZz4iaGoFkwSBvJG1vmP1Hthgp1ukHt4A86XeFOJWR63vKlA8uwfScTOZKlsA-iYp2WYy7cW4CKF47mEb5HbFWDGHDKHzMt6mWYwQYJdSxutdS5D_5zdms/s400/rouxcreepz.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Numerous times, I’ve awoken around 4 A.M. to Rouxmeanas gnawing on my leg through the covers like I would a bucket of KFC chicken. Her front paws pin my leg down and hold it steady while she tries to take a bite. Needless to say, I was highly disturbed the first time I awoke to find that I was the snack of choice for Cannibalistic Rouxmeanas. But now I just kick her off and turn over. As if in retaliation, she decides to play with her favorite toy: a plastic ball that has a bell inside of it. I don’t know whose idea it was to buy her this ball; perhaps my mother, who gives her all kinds of cat toys in her Christmas stocking that are designed to make the pet owner go certifiably insane. But I do blame myself for being too weak to take it away from her. She swats the ball so that it goes flying across the apartment, ricocheting off of walls. Meanwhile she tramples around after it like a pack of hyenas. The sound of that bell ringing and smacking every hard surface ensures that I won’t be falling back asleep any time soon.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Eventually, Roux carries the ball onto my bed. She lies next to me and bats it between her paws as if practicing her dribbling. Every now and then the ball smacks me in the face. Yet, I never have the heart to take it away from her. For some reason, in my zombie stupor, her having fun seems just as important as my getting sleep. So I compromise and grab my headphones from my nightstand and plug up my ears. No music, just something to serve as a barrier between the ringing bell and my sound receptors. I’ve often wondered if Roux’s energy fits are abnormal. I imagine that the few precious hours of sleep I get without her interruption are due to the fact that she has snuck downstairs to the neighboring cat’s apartment to score some catnip.</span><br />
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</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">When I give in and actually choose to play with her, she means business. If I swirl my finger in the air in front of her she </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">will </span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">catch it, and then it’s game over. She </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">will </span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">scratch and bite whatever she’s taken captive. Consequently, I now have scars all over my hands and arms, and I constantly have fresh wounds. I can’t count how many times my friends have asked me if I fell in a bush or the amount of terrified glances I get from strangers who think I cut myself.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">The second problem with Rouxmeanas is that she jeopardizes my relationships with just about anyone. The Fall semester of my Third Year in Undergrad I pledged a co-ed service fraternity. My pledge class decided to get a pledge class T-Shirt specially made. Two days after I received my shirt I went home for Christmas break. I never unpack and often live out of bags whenever I travel. One afternoon I came home from the mall to find that Rouxmeanas had managed to unzip my duffel bag, pull out my specialty pledge class Tshirt, drag it to her litter box, and poop on it. She pooped on the shirt in such a way that it was not salvageable. I couldn’t believe it. How was I going to go back and face my pledge class and tell them that I wasn’t going to be participating in any unity involving clothing? How was I going to look the girl who spent time designing and ordering this shirt in the eye and tell her that her hard work was covered in cat poop? It was poop terrorism! However, the following summer I engaged in some Rouxmeanas’ poop terrorism of my own.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I was living in my college apartment and had a couple of friends over to watch a movie. As if on cue, just as my guests arrived, Rouxmeanas decided to stink up the place. It was so bad that my friends were screaming in disgust, begging me to do something about it. All I could do was gag. So I sealed her cat litter in a plastic grocery store bag and ran out the back door onto our tiny wooden fire escape. Usually there was a huge dumpster right beneath our balcony so we would always throw our trash over the banister. In keeping with tradition, I chucked the bag of poop over the railing in a frenzy, expecting it to land in the dumpster with ease. But when I looked down, there was no dumpster. Instead, there were individual rolling trashcans with lids lined up against the building. The bag of poop missed those trashcans altogether and instead landed on my neighbor’s windowsill who lives two floors below me! I panicked. The windowsill was too high off the ground for me to reach and too far below my own window. To make matters worse, we’re not allowed to have pets in our building, so what if my neighbors thought it was </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">my </span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">poop, instead of </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">cat</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> poop? I was trying to envision what I would say to them, if ever confronted. </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Oh sorry guys, my toilet was broken</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">. I was doomed.</span><br />
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</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXwBSh37O6oIU3eolLiLWlbXU6JaT-4SxUyn1kBBT-6SdxIFJZJ9LYUaVJsba3eh7aA2ZGuI6kef8fkQvmwMMmjeVzU_ZJUgW0KlSBpGW3hzF8zpyMbz2bxMWkDFop2X6iB8KHnn4XJ6s/s1600/roux.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXwBSh37O6oIU3eolLiLWlbXU6JaT-4SxUyn1kBBT-6SdxIFJZJ9LYUaVJsba3eh7aA2ZGuI6kef8fkQvmwMMmjeVzU_ZJUgW0KlSBpGW3hzF8zpyMbz2bxMWkDFop2X6iB8KHnn4XJ6s/s320/roux.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
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</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Rouxmeanas knows that the heart of any modern person lies in their computer. That’s why, when she’s not using me as a scratching post or using her poop as a weapon, she uses my MacBook Pro as a means of sabotage. During my Spring Semester of my Third year, I was trying to land an internship in the arts field. I was emailing back and forth with the Director of a local arts organization about setting up an interview. After the Director asked me what days and times would be good to meet, I hit the reply button and went to pour a cup of coffee before writing my response. I returned from the kitchen to find Rouxmeanas sprawled out across my laptop, settling in against the warmth of the keyboard in preparation for one of her naps. I stared at the computer screen in horror. My stomach was doing flips, my heart was threatening to beat right out of my chest, and my hands started to shake. “NOOOO!” I screamed at Roux, who didn’t bother to open her eyes. Roux had somehow managed to draft and send my email for me. She had sent the director an email from me that simply said </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">p</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">. That was all. </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">p</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">. What kind of response does that warrant?</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Dear Desiré, When is a good time for you to come in for an interview? </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">p</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">P sounds perfect! See you then!</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I had to fix this somehow. The way I saw it, I had one of three options. Either send her a real email acting as if </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">p </span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">had never been sent, send her a real email and tell her the truth (that my psycho-pet has it in for me), or send her a real email blaming myself (in which case I may come off as incompetent and unworthy of an internship if I don’t even know how to send an email). I took my chances and chose the latter. I apologized and explained that I had accidentally sent the email before I was finished typing. Then the challenge became starting a sentence with the letter </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">p</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">. What could I have possibly been typing to her before that required </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">p</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">? I had to be consistent here and cover all of my tracks. But all I could think of were phrases like </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">puck Rouxmeanas</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> and </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">please take my cat</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> I was about to leave for work this morning when I realized that I hadn’t seen Roux at all since I had woken up. On my way out the door, my heart stopped when I saw four furry paws emerging from beneath the couch. They weren’t moving. </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">This is it</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">, I thought, convinced that Roux had died Wicked Witch of the West style. I closed my eyes and pulled at the paws. My breath caught in my chest. It was a stuffed hippopotamus that belonged to my little sister. I turned around and there was Rouxmeanas, standing in the corner, with a gray stuffed ear hanging out of her mouth.</span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyYy-kq6DiXj1W4QqFwETeioXzfrlR8cM3dxgi5o_tjY-QE-3AH7M0UoTejdYyXJNYtgMoLWjvynfrkBqdw6g9tTglJXmJ1C5iLnqS6mVlsDDRdNT88WVW3yj56ByPhBGZ2AEzjOKvbjI/s1600/roux+and+me.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyYy-kq6DiXj1W4QqFwETeioXzfrlR8cM3dxgi5o_tjY-QE-3AH7M0UoTejdYyXJNYtgMoLWjvynfrkBqdw6g9tTglJXmJ1C5iLnqS6mVlsDDRdNT88WVW3yj56ByPhBGZ2AEzjOKvbjI/s320/roux+and+me.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
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</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> </span></div></span>Desire'http://www.blogger.com/profile/04283153571720955489noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7625133165248435512.post-14276392062351968182010-09-19T15:10:00.000-04:002010-09-19T15:10:55.852-04:00Freak of the Week: Round 2<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgO4nuLpQczM6tOuLlXy7rFXVpSkt0vwoSesqu6kaSvHb7l3Sh4PDIefo924yQWb9Qtq5h4HZqVkRWCHwChj1WPpPz1PqiK-aHeyOtNm_5qA7xs_qTBdDnMrY5F-skhrJ_CwlqZXeD4yGA/s1600/FOOT.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgO4nuLpQczM6tOuLlXy7rFXVpSkt0vwoSesqu6kaSvHb7l3Sh4PDIefo924yQWb9Qtq5h4HZqVkRWCHwChj1WPpPz1PqiK-aHeyOtNm_5qA7xs_qTBdDnMrY5F-skhrJ_CwlqZXeD4yGA/s320/FOOT.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
This week's Freak of the Week is a paperclip that I received on a packet of papers from my insurance company. Now, before I continue, I need to make a clarification: yes, the Freak of the Week CAN be an inanimate object. As you can see in the picture above, this wasn't just any paperclip...it was shaped like a FOOT. In order for you to understand why this paperclip was not only an instant <i>freak </i>in my book, but also one of the most outrageous things I've ever seen, you need to know a crucial fact about me: feet are my biggest fear/pet peeve/whatever you want to call it. Bottom line: they are gross and I hate them. If anyone's foot gets near me, I automatically scream...it's a reflex. Shoes are my favorite fashion item (I'm obsessed) and I'm beginning to think it's because shoes cover up these filthy extremities. So you can imagine my disgust and utter shock when, in an attempt to flip through the pages easily, I removed the paperclip from the packet only to discover that it was a FOOT. WHY did I receive THIS?!<br />
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First of all, paper clips do NOT need to be spiced up. Trust me, receiving a themed paperclip will not brighten my day in any way, nor will receiving a plain, silver paperclip send me into a frenzy. Whose bright idea was this? Body-part paperclips? Was this some "cute" ploy to get me to remain with this insurance company, since they do, after all, provide medical insurance? If so, it most definitely did NOT work. How am I supposed to take this company seriously when it looks like the Jolly Green Giant's miniature counterpart stepped on my papers? I would have preferred a paperclip shaped like a kidney.<br />
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<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">However, this paperclip is tricksy and is obviously trying really hard to suck me in. It's green, which is my favorite color. I see this as some sort of bribe. It is not going to fool me into thinking that it's aesthetically pleasing. As if its color is enough to completely distract me from its shape!</div><br />
This paperclip may be just as big of a freak in the realm of paperclips as it is in my world. I have NEVER seen a themed paperclip, which leads me to believe that this may be the ONLY themed paperclip on the PLANET. Even if there are other themed paperclips out there, or, more specifically, other foot paperclips (I don't even want to fathom it), this paperclip is STILL a freak. It seems to me that the last two toes are kind of lumped together, creating a uni-toe of sorts. What an unfortunate design flaw.<br />
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Have you encountered any inanimate object freakz this week??Desire'http://www.blogger.com/profile/04283153571720955489noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7625133165248435512.post-15427872197734243182010-09-15T00:48:00.005-04:002010-09-15T01:12:01.759-04:00Current Thoughts: On Music<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZFQ-x3gL2m4lW8Y21w_pjbN3f2aNSipBOuelRHm-_NJV2hPjFq5OBd3ggPfB0CgW4MFzah-lua6clG4-ByFhCJsqR2-sLXf4KOObz1QmtEkXZp0SgxU2g61AZoLkBMf_oQ19XpWU0Q9w/s1600/dtown2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZFQ-x3gL2m4lW8Y21w_pjbN3f2aNSipBOuelRHm-_NJV2hPjFq5OBd3ggPfB0CgW4MFzah-lua6clG4-ByFhCJsqR2-sLXf4KOObz1QmtEkXZp0SgxU2g61AZoLkBMf_oQ19XpWU0Q9w/s400/dtown2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">View from my seat in Downtown Roanoke right now...the sky looks awesome.</td></tr>
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Like many people out there, I'm a music fanatic. Here's what's been on my mind music-wise this afternoon:<br />
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1. The Black Keys are playing at the Charlottesville Pavilion tonight and I'm ridiculously sad that I'm missing it. The jury's still out on the date of my official move back to Charlottesville, so until then, I'm bopping around Roanoke. Even if I was in Charlottesville, I would probably have to resort to watching tonight's concert from THE bridge that runs by the Pavilion, in the interest of saving money (this Fall's show lineup in CVille is too good...forcing me to pick and choose what I spend on). The only time I've seen The Black Keys play live was at Lollapalooza in 2008. I can't even get started on Lolla, because, like every other festival experience, it was completely amazing and indescribable. But I will say that watching these two guys rocking harder than most full-band lineups against the backdrop of the Chicago skyline blew me away. To all of you going to the show tonight, have a blast! And to The Black Keys, I'll catch ya next time.<br />
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2. I don't mean to be negative, but I HAVE to get this off of my chest. WHAT is the deal with Kenny Chesney??? Okay, I know I don't have the biggest appreciation for mainstream country music (by which I mean, generally speaking, I can't stand it...there are a few exceptions, but for the most part, let me just say...WOOF). I love folk and I can get down with some bluegrass, but mainstream country has just never been my thing. However, my two favorite artists have BOTH collaborated with Kenny Chesney! It started with Dave Matthews back in 2008 or 2009, doing a song called "I'm Alive," which you can watch/listen to <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bynMis1h_8U">here.</a> Now, Grace Potter is jumping on the bandwagon and doing a duet with him!!! The Grace and Kenny combo can be found <a href="http://www.rollingstone.com/music/news/17386/203204">here</a> (I like to refer to them on a first-name basis, as if we're actually friends). I'm going to spare everybody the obsessive details about why I worship Dave Matthews ("worship" should be too strong of a word, but if I'm being honest, it's probably not) and aspire to be Grace Potter (her voice, her lyrics, her style, her FLYING V guitar...in my opinion, she is one of the most badass and talented females to hit the music scene in quite some time). However, I'm starting to question their choices a little bit. Do they know something I don't? Should I give Kenny a chance? I admit that I don't know much of Kenny Chesney's repertoire, but even these duets are kind of, well, ZZZ.<br />
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3. If I'm going to be so harsh and bash one musician, I guess I should be fair and divulge what I AM listening to today. For the past week, I've been listening to <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FEmpKHWerWg&feature=related">Jenny and Johnny</a> (who I WILL be seeing in Charlottesville) and <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z3Rcf8S-rw4&feature=fvst">Ray Lamontagne's </a> new album. Jenny Lewis is another one of my favorite female musicians, and this whimsical album is perfect for the summer-to-fall transition that's going on right now (yes, I often match my musical choices to the daily forecast). And I can't say enough about Ray Lamontagne. His deep, thoughtful voice and acoustic guitar communicate such honest, beautiful emotion.<br />
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4. I FINALLY have side bangs! I'm mentioning this now because:<br />
A. All this talk about Grace Potter and Jenny Lewis reminds me of an article I read in a magazine a few months ago (the name of the magazine escapes me at the moment...it was either <i>Marie Claire</i> or <i>Elle</i>, as those are the two that I read religiously...I'm leaning more towards <i>Marie Claire</i>) about the correlation between cool female musicians and bangs. Basically, having great bangs seems to be one of the keys to rock/indie glory. Grace Potter and Jenny Lewis are both prime examples of this trend, but apparently Zooey Deschanel's retro-esque bangs are the most requested in hair salons across the nation.<br />
B. I'm shameless and I really just want to talk about my new hair. I can be <i>really </i>indecisive, and I've been talking about getting bangs for over two years now but have been too afraid to take the plunge. I have been known to utter such excuses as "I have a short forehead and no one wants to see burbee (baby) bangs on a 22-year-old" and "I'm too ethnic-looking for that" (not sure why these were legitimate concerns). Anyways, the snipping is done and I like them! I've basically opened Pandora's Box because I already want to go shorter! <br />
Side-Note: I was just caught using Mac's Photobooth as a mirror!!! Yes, I was inspecting said bangs, when I saw a girl creeping up behind me in my webcam, giving me a smirk that seemed to say "you are sitting three feet away from a bathroom with a nice-sized mirror...are you that lazy?" Why, yes, as a matter of fact, I AM that lazy. Welp, now that I'm properly mortified I think it's time to quit talking about my hair.<br />
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</div>I'm always looking for new music, so leave me a link to ya current favorite song!Desire'http://www.blogger.com/profile/04283153571720955489noreply@blogger.com1