Currently I'm reading How English Works: A Linguistic Introduction by Anne Curzan & Michael P. Adams and marveling at the beauty of our language.
Currently I'm watching The Break-Up on USA and marveling at it's upsetting relevance.
Sunday, March 20, 2011
currently
Currently I'm listening to Freelance Whales' Generator ^ First Floor and marveling at how lovely their sound is.
I highly recommend their entire album Weathervanes.
Currently I'm reading How English Works: A Linguistic Introduction by Anne Curzan & Michael P. Adams and marveling at the beauty of our language.
Nerd alert.
Currently I'm watching The Break-Up on USA and marveling at it's upsetting relevance.
Brooke (Jennifer Aniston): I just don't know how we got here. Our entire relationship, I have gone above and beyond for you, for us. I've cooked. I've picked your shit up off the floor. I've laid your clothes out for you like you're a four year old. I support you. I supported you, your work. If we ever had dinner or anything, I did the plans. I take care of everything. And I just don't feel like you appreciate any of it. I don't feel you appreciate me. All I want is to know, is for you to show me that you care.
Currently I'm reading How English Works: A Linguistic Introduction by Anne Curzan & Michael P. Adams and marveling at the beauty of our language.
Currently I'm watching The Break-Up on USA and marveling at it's upsetting relevance.
Wednesday, March 16, 2011
can't stop, won't stop: march
A can't stop/won't stop March edition? Oh, by all means:
Swoon.
...
when laying with you
i could stay there,
close my eyes,
feel you here forever
you & me together -- nothing is better
set fire to the rain
In unrelated news, I'm definitely enjoying this unexpected spring break. Well, kind of. So far I've literally slept all day, every day which, let's face it, is totally boring. BUT tomorrow I get to play sand volleyball in the morning with some friends then hit up Lemon Bar around 3pm for some St. Patrick's Day day-drinking with Mitch, Harrison and anyone else brave enough to get on our level. Obvi.
Meanwhile, I'll be rocking out to some ballin' tunes. Happy (early) St. Patrick's Day, y'all! Wear lots of shamrocks, avoid getting pinched, and partake in several green beers. :)
*Also loving Chasing Pavements by Adele. I had completely forgotten how great this song is! Whoadang.
- More by Usher (looove me some Usher Raymond ever since those You Make Me Wanna days, mmmmmmmmm)
- If You Run by The Boxer Rebellion
- Don't You (Forget About Me) by Simple Minds
- Grazed Knees by Snow Patrol
- And I know I'm a bit late on this bandwagon, but Adele*'s new album, 21? To. Die. For.
when laying with you
i could stay there,
close my eyes,
feel you here forever
you & me together -- nothing is better
set fire to the rain
In unrelated news, I'm definitely enjoying this unexpected spring break. Well, kind of. So far I've literally slept all day, every day which, let's face it, is totally boring. BUT tomorrow I get to play sand volleyball in the morning with some friends then hit up Lemon Bar around 3pm for some St. Patrick's Day day-drinking with Mitch, Harrison and anyone else brave enough to get on our level. Obvi.
Meanwhile, I'll be rocking out to some ballin' tunes. Happy (early) St. Patrick's Day, y'all! Wear lots of shamrocks, avoid getting pinched, and partake in several green beers. :)
*Also loving Chasing Pavements by Adele. I had completely forgotten how great this song is! Whoadang.
Monday, March 14, 2011
true life: my bff is a trekkie
My BFF Kristin is a Trekkie. I probably should have mentioned this last week when I wrote about how awesome she is because, really, y'all need to know that even beautiful people are weird on the inside.
Thanks to gchat for making the following conversation possible.*
Also thanks to FACEinHOLE.com, obviously.
Kristin: okay so
the borg is the group that they call The Collective. And i honestly don't know how it started....i might look that up later
but anyway
there's thousands of them
and they are these weird robot thingys. but what makes them scary is that they all used to be people, but when they conquer a new group of people, they "assimilate" them. so they jab this thing into your neck and it plants this bug into you that turns you into a robot
and so there's no individuality, and no human traits left.
me: Oh my god
Kristin: (and actually, you don't have to be human to be assimilated)
so they're totally heartless, but they all think as one because The Collective shares thoughts and memories
so they can beat ANYBODY
because if they assimilate a person that knows something about weapons defense for one race, the whole Collective knows.
me: That actually makes a lot of sense
Kristin: and they would say this phrase that was something like, "Prepare to be assimilated. Resistance is futile."
it scared the shit out of me when i was little
and then you lose your name, you just become a number
so there's your number in the collective, but then there's number that you're commonly known as
and there was one Borg that the Voyager actually saved, and her name was Seven of Nine
and they got her whole family and everything, and they removed part of the robot stuff that was infecting her, so she had to relive everything she saw right before she was assimilated
that wasn't a happy episode
i'm sure there are more technical names for all this, but, thank god, i don't know them.
me: No, I think you've already proved that you know more than enough
Kristin: SHUT UP, THIS IS WHAT I LIKE.
me: This is so going on my blog
Kristin: whatever. i'm proud of who i ma.
me: I'm proud of who I ma, too
Kristin: goddammit. screw you.
*It should be noted that I in no way incited this conversation. This was all Kristin, all the time.
Thanks to gchat for making the following conversation possible.*
Kristin: okay so
the borg is the group that they call The Collective. And i honestly don't know how it started....i might look that up later
but anyway
there's thousands of them
and they are these weird robot thingys. but what makes them scary is that they all used to be people, but when they conquer a new group of people, they "assimilate" them. so they jab this thing into your neck and it plants this bug into you that turns you into a robot
and so there's no individuality, and no human traits left.
me: Oh my god
Kristin: (and actually, you don't have to be human to be assimilated)
so they're totally heartless, but they all think as one because The Collective shares thoughts and memories
so they can beat ANYBODY
because if they assimilate a person that knows something about weapons defense for one race, the whole Collective knows.
me: That actually makes a lot of sense
Kristin: and they would say this phrase that was something like, "Prepare to be assimilated. Resistance is futile."
it scared the shit out of me when i was little
and then you lose your name, you just become a number
so there's your number in the collective, but then there's number that you're commonly known as
and there was one Borg that the Voyager actually saved, and her name was Seven of Nine
and they got her whole family and everything, and they removed part of the robot stuff that was infecting her, so she had to relive everything she saw right before she was assimilated
that wasn't a happy episode
i'm sure there are more technical names for all this, but, thank god, i don't know them.
me: No, I think you've already proved that you know more than enough
Kristin: SHUT UP, THIS IS WHAT I LIKE.
me: This is so going on my blog
Kristin: whatever. i'm proud of who i ma.
me: I'm proud of who I ma, too
Kristin: goddammit. screw you.
*It should be noted that I in no way incited this conversation. This was all Kristin, all the time.
Sunday, March 13, 2011
bueno, we have a problem
Y'all, something has gone terribly wrong.
With my taste buds.
My love affair with Taco Bueno party burritos is no secret, but I think the impossible has finally happened. I think...I think I may have finally eaten too much Bueno.
And the worst part?
I'VE RUINED IT.
Will I ever love you again?
I've out-Buenoed myself. It's so terrible. I don't even know who I am anymore. I haven't had Bueno in, like, three weeks because I haven't even wanted it. WHAT HAS HAPPENED? Has the world turned upside down? Is red now blue?
Mitch says he needs to know I'm still all about the Bueno otherwise I'm getting the ax. Yea. It's that serious, y'all. You just don't even know.
So, Bueno, speak to me.
Seduce me with your slow-cooked refried beans and unbelievably low prices. Let our passion be reignited so that my love for you may be revived, my relationship saved.
Or else.
With my taste buds.
My love affair with Taco Bueno party burritos is no secret, but I think the impossible has finally happened. I think...I think I may have finally eaten too much Bueno.
And the worst part?
I'VE RUINED IT.
I've out-Buenoed myself. It's so terrible. I don't even know who I am anymore. I haven't had Bueno in, like, three weeks because I haven't even wanted it. WHAT HAS HAPPENED? Has the world turned upside down? Is red now blue?
Mitch says he needs to know I'm still all about the Bueno otherwise I'm getting the ax. Yea. It's that serious, y'all. You just don't even know.
So, Bueno, speak to me.
Seduce me with your slow-cooked refried beans and unbelievably low prices. Let our passion be reignited so that my love for you may be revived, my relationship saved.
Or else.
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
definitely better than third grade, y'know, with all the politics and the mind games
Things I’ve Learned While Substitute Teaching: second graders are YOUNG.
Like, really really young, y’all. Did you know most of them are only seven? SEVEN YEARS OLD. Holy crap. They’re still babies. I don’t know why, but this absolutely blows my mind.
I think it’s pretty obvious that I recently subbed for a second grade class. Today, actually. And you know what? Seven-year olds are also LOUD. And crazy. And really into invading your personal space. All day long they’d come up to me and stroke my arms while talking to me, lean against me, sit on the ground and try to rest their heads in my lap, hold my hand in the hallways, walk with their arms around my waist, etc. I couldn’t stop thinking about how awkward it would be if adults were like that, especially if adults were like that with people they’d only know for about an hour.
Maybe I’ll try it out.
It was adorable, though. Today was honestly all about playing mommy as opposed to teacher. There were tantrums, tears, tattling, and one girl even punched another in the stomach. Dra-ma. And it was my job to step in talk them out of their tantrums, tell them to mind their own business, and wipe away any and all tears. As far as the girl who punched another, well, she and I had a lengthy talk which ended with her sobbing and rocking back & forth in my lap. Like I said, I was on mommy-duty. Challenging, exhausting…but nice.
After school, I came home with nineteen pictures and signs that the kids made for me. Most of them talk about how much I rock (it’s true, I do), but I particularly liked the one depicting a helicopter launching missiles. He even took the time to color the helicopter to look like it was camouflaged. Stellar work, kid.
Oh, wait, I also liked the one where a girl wrote, “i love miss tea.”
Tea. T. Ha.
The one on top really captures my essence. But no, I wasn't wearing pigtails today.
Throughout this whole job application process (wherein I apply to about a thousand school districts and pray to God someone, somewhere decides to take a chance on me), I’ve wondered what grade is right for me. High school is obviously out since most of those kids are total bastards. Plus, walking into a high school makes me feel as weird and anxious as it did when I was sixteen and, no thanks, I don’t want to relive that hell everyday.
Sidenote: I was so beyond uptight and awkward in high school, y’all. Like…terribly. It’s almost painful for me to look back at the person I was at seventeen, even though my mother says I need to cut myself some slack. Oh, I also didn’t grow out of my ugly, I-don’t-know-how-to-put-on-make-up-or-do-my-hair-without-looking-like-either-a-tranny-or-a-hot-mess phase until I was twenty-one…and by twenty-one I, of course, mean twenty-four which in turn means I’m actually still growing out of it. Neat-o.
End sidenote.
Anyway, the point is I wasn’t sure what age group would be my best fit as a teacher. It’s hard to know something like that with no classroom experience. I still really feel like my heart lies in the 5th and 6th grades (ie. old enough to have personalities and get most of my jokes, but young enough to still be sweet and think I’m cool), but after today, I don’t think I’d mind rocking it in the lower elementary. Maybe.
Who knows.
PS: Today I also learned that I have no idea what second graders are supposed to know by this age. Like, are they supposed to understand subtraction? Because it took a kid roughly ninety seconds to answer me when I asked him what ten minus one was. Not kidding. Also, spelling? Do they know how to do it? I saw a girl write the sentence, “i cant wate to go to mitold skoole.” PAINFUL. Or normal?
Like, really really young, y’all. Did you know most of them are only seven? SEVEN YEARS OLD. Holy crap. They’re still babies. I don’t know why, but this absolutely blows my mind.
I think it’s pretty obvious that I recently subbed for a second grade class. Today, actually. And you know what? Seven-year olds are also LOUD. And crazy. And really into invading your personal space. All day long they’d come up to me and stroke my arms while talking to me, lean against me, sit on the ground and try to rest their heads in my lap, hold my hand in the hallways, walk with their arms around my waist, etc. I couldn’t stop thinking about how awkward it would be if adults were like that, especially if adults were like that with people they’d only know for about an hour.
Maybe I’ll try it out.
It was adorable, though. Today was honestly all about playing mommy as opposed to teacher. There were tantrums, tears, tattling, and one girl even punched another in the stomach. Dra-ma. And it was my job to step in talk them out of their tantrums, tell them to mind their own business, and wipe away any and all tears. As far as the girl who punched another, well, she and I had a lengthy talk which ended with her sobbing and rocking back & forth in my lap. Like I said, I was on mommy-duty. Challenging, exhausting…but nice.
After school, I came home with nineteen pictures and signs that the kids made for me. Most of them talk about how much I rock (it’s true, I do), but I particularly liked the one depicting a helicopter launching missiles. He even took the time to color the helicopter to look like it was camouflaged. Stellar work, kid.
Oh, wait, I also liked the one where a girl wrote, “i love miss tea.”
Tea. T. Ha.
Throughout this whole job application process (wherein I apply to about a thousand school districts and pray to God someone, somewhere decides to take a chance on me), I’ve wondered what grade is right for me. High school is obviously out since most of those kids are total bastards. Plus, walking into a high school makes me feel as weird and anxious as it did when I was sixteen and, no thanks, I don’t want to relive that hell everyday.
Sidenote: I was so beyond uptight and awkward in high school, y’all. Like…terribly. It’s almost painful for me to look back at the person I was at seventeen, even though my mother says I need to cut myself some slack. Oh, I also didn’t grow out of my ugly, I-don’t-know-how-to-put-on-make-up-or-do-my-hair-without-looking-like-either-a-tranny-or-a-hot-mess phase until I was twenty-one…and by twenty-one I, of course, mean twenty-four which in turn means I’m actually still growing out of it. Neat-o.
End sidenote.
Anyway, the point is I wasn’t sure what age group would be my best fit as a teacher. It’s hard to know something like that with no classroom experience. I still really feel like my heart lies in the 5th and 6th grades (ie. old enough to have personalities and get most of my jokes, but young enough to still be sweet and think I’m cool), but after today, I don’t think I’d mind rocking it in the lower elementary. Maybe.
Who knows.
PS: Today I also learned that I have no idea what second graders are supposed to know by this age. Like, are they supposed to understand subtraction? Because it took a kid roughly ninety seconds to answer me when I asked him what ten minus one was. Not kidding. Also, spelling? Do they know how to do it? I saw a girl write the sentence, “i cant wate to go to mitold skoole.” PAINFUL. Or normal?
for kristin
Happy birthday to this girl:
Oh, Kristin, you are so welcome.
Universe, I'm not sure that y'all have been properly introduced on this here blog, but this is one of my very best friends, Kristin. Kristin, the Universe. We've been best friends for, what?, five years now? Something like that? We met our freshmen year at A&M, fell in love, and, well, you know how the story goes: lived happily every after. No, but seriously.
Football season 2006 and my all-time favorite picture of us. :)
It's much harder now to maintain our BFFdom, seeing as she's in Austin and I'm up here in Dallas, but through phone and gchat (what a godsend), we make it work. After so many years invested, I think it'll take more than simply living four hours apart to come between us.
Halloween 2007. Here I can be seen chopping Kristin in the stomach with a plastic ax because why wouldn't I?
When talking to other people, I like to describe Kristin as my hot friend with the big boobs. And it's true. Maybe you can't tell from the pictures, but I swear, she's got 'em. Plus she's got the whole blonde-hair-blue-eyed thing going on. Guys are basically at her mercy, something she's almost always oblivious to. Hilarious. And this once again reinforces my point that I truly have the bangingest of friends.
Texas A&M v. Baylor, 2008. Gig'em!
Along with all my other Briarwood lovers, Kristin is an Aggie, enjoys the occasional drink and, unlike all of my other Briarwood lovers, has a thing for athletes. And VIPs. And 30-year old men. Have I said too much?
BTHO t.u., 2009. Damn, we've gone to a lot of football games together from the looks of these pictures.
So, today (and this post!) is for you, Kristin. Twenty-four is going to be your year, I can just feel it. I love you with my whole heart, maneater-status or not, and am so grateful to have had a friend like you for the past five years. Here's to five million more!
PS: For a special treat, see a picture of Kristin on her twenty-first birthday here. It's the first picture. You can't miss it.
PPS: Kristin, I hope you still love me. Happy birthday?
Universe, I'm not sure that y'all have been properly introduced on this here blog, but this is one of my very best friends, Kristin. Kristin, the Universe. We've been best friends for, what?, five years now? Something like that? We met our freshmen year at A&M, fell in love, and, well, you know how the story goes: lived happily every after. No, but seriously.
It's much harder now to maintain our BFFdom, seeing as she's in Austin and I'm up here in Dallas, but through phone and gchat (what a godsend), we make it work. After so many years invested, I think it'll take more than simply living four hours apart to come between us.
When talking to other people, I like to describe Kristin as my hot friend with the big boobs. And it's true. Maybe you can't tell from the pictures, but I swear, she's got 'em. Plus she's got the whole blonde-hair-blue-eyed thing going on. Guys are basically at her mercy, something she's almost always oblivious to. Hilarious. And this once again reinforces my point that I truly have the bangingest of friends.
Along with all my other Briarwood lovers, Kristin is an Aggie, enjoys the occasional drink and, unlike all of my other Briarwood lovers, has a thing for athletes. And VIPs. And 30-year old men. Have I said too much?
So, today (and this post!) is for you, Kristin. Twenty-four is going to be your year, I can just feel it. I love you with my whole heart, maneater-status or not, and am so grateful to have had a friend like you for the past five years. Here's to five million more!
PS: For a special treat, see a picture of Kristin on her twenty-first birthday here. It's the first picture. You can't miss it.
PPS: Kristin, I hope you still love me. Happy birthday?
Sunday, March 6, 2011
the ghost of spring breaks past
(alternative title: why i'll never be hired by anyone, ever)
Today I made a special trip over to my storage room (where all my belongings sadly remain since I’m totally super cool and live in my parents’ guestroom) to dig through a million boxes of crap, looking for koozies.
Yup, koozies.
And do you want to know why? Because it’s almost spring break, mfers!
Now, okay, maybe I’m a little too old for spring break, seeing as how I spent last year’s staring at this (while Mitch was off skiing in Breckenridge…yea, poured some salt into THAT wound, didn’t you, lover?):
NO.
That’s right. This time last year I was working in a soul-sucking job as an accounts receivable coordinator, something I’ve mentioned probably too many times, but whatever. Anyway, it was tough working for the man while all my college friends were off having the time of their lives since it wasn’t that long ago that I, too, was having the time of my life, PCB-style.
In March of 2008 and 2009, I road tripped down to Florida with fifteen friends and spent the week renting a house in Panama City Beach. A house with two tiny bathrooms. Shared by a bazillion people. It was, in a word, classic. You know all those spring break trips you see depicted in college movies? Yeaaaa.
When we went my junior year, in 2008, I had just turned 21 in the weeks prior so, needless to say, I was pretty excited to just be able to drink legally. Add on a trip to the beach with my friends and I was absolutely in heaven.
SBPCB08 jams: Sexy Can I by Ray J
I Run This by Birdman feat. Lil’ Wayne
It was a little on the wild side, I’ll admit, but truth be told, I don’t think it can even compare to the ridiculousness of SBPCB09.
Seriously.
There was booze, theft, regretful yet hilarious ice outs, dancing, and a variety of competitions, rewards and penalties. There were underground beer bongs, on-a-canoe beer bongs, duct-taped-and-hog-tied beer bongs, Lindsey’s-underwear beer bongs, running beer bongs, peeing-in-the-ocean beer bongs, and god, so many more. I spent most of my time drunk dialing my fellow Fish Camp counselors (note: more on Fish Camp at a later date) and leaving them messages like, CLINT, IF YOU DON’T ANSWER THIS PHONE RIGHT NOW, I SWEAR TO GOD I WILL CHOKE YOU, etc.
SBPCB09 jams: Kiss Me Thru the Phone by Soulja Boy Tell ‘Em
I'm on a Boat by The Lonely Island
pictured: bliss
pictured: utilizing a rape whistle while in a crowded outdoor bar
pictured: BFFL high-pour
pictured: dudes' top-ass picture. an absolute must.
pictured: dudettes' top-ass picture. not embarrassing.
To put it this way, last year I jokingly applied to be a castmate on Jersey Shore season 3 (duh, why wouldn’t everyone?) and when asked to describe my perfect summer weekend, I described instead a single day at Panama City Beach in 2009. Oh, and submitted a picture of myself doing a beer bong while wearing a bikini. And definitely got a call-back ("Girrrrrrl, can’t wait for your audition tape! LOVE your booty!"). So, crazy enough to interest the producers over at the Jerz? HEY-OH!
Maybe I shouldn’t post things like this since I’m in the process of trying to become gainfully employed?
Whatev.
Slash Mama, Dad, extended family…I apologize if you read all of this. I really am the nice, semi-normal girl you thought you knew.
I will say, however, that I have grown up a lot since 2008 and 2009. I don’t ice out with strangers or binge drink (on week nights, at least). And this year I have the exciting privilege of spending a weekend out at Harrison’s lakehouse with some very fun, adult-type friends, instead of spending the entirety of Spring Break 2011 working like a sucker. But the number one item at the top of my packing list (yes, I make packing lists, shut up)?
Koozies.
Yup, koozies.
And do you want to know why? Because it’s almost spring break, mfers!
Now, okay, maybe I’m a little too old for spring break, seeing as how I spent last year’s staring at this (while Mitch was off skiing in Breckenridge…yea, poured some salt into THAT wound, didn’t you, lover?):
That’s right. This time last year I was working in a soul-sucking job as an accounts receivable coordinator, something I’ve mentioned probably too many times, but whatever. Anyway, it was tough working for the man while all my college friends were off having the time of their lives since it wasn’t that long ago that I, too, was having the time of my life, PCB-style.
In March of 2008 and 2009, I road tripped down to Florida with fifteen friends and spent the week renting a house in Panama City Beach. A house with two tiny bathrooms. Shared by a bazillion people. It was, in a word, classic. You know all those spring break trips you see depicted in college movies? Yeaaaa.
When we went my junior year, in 2008, I had just turned 21 in the weeks prior so, needless to say, I was pretty excited to just be able to drink legally. Add on a trip to the beach with my friends and I was absolutely in heaven.
SBPCB08 jams: Sexy Can I by Ray J
I Run This by Birdman feat. Lil’ Wayne
It was a little on the wild side, I’ll admit, but truth be told, I don’t think it can even compare to the ridiculousness of SBPCB09.
Seriously.
There was booze, theft, regretful yet hilarious ice outs, dancing, and a variety of competitions, rewards and penalties. There were underground beer bongs, on-a-canoe beer bongs, duct-taped-and-hog-tied beer bongs, Lindsey’s-underwear beer bongs, running beer bongs, peeing-in-the-ocean beer bongs, and god, so many more. I spent most of my time drunk dialing my fellow Fish Camp counselors (note: more on Fish Camp at a later date) and leaving them messages like, CLINT, IF YOU DON’T ANSWER THIS PHONE RIGHT NOW, I SWEAR TO GOD I WILL CHOKE YOU, etc.
SBPCB09 jams: Kiss Me Thru the Phone by Soulja Boy Tell ‘Em
I'm on a Boat by The Lonely Island
To put it this way, last year I jokingly applied to be a castmate on Jersey Shore season 3 (duh, why wouldn’t everyone?) and when asked to describe my perfect summer weekend, I described instead a single day at Panama City Beach in 2009. Oh, and submitted a picture of myself doing a beer bong while wearing a bikini. And definitely got a call-back ("Girrrrrrl, can’t wait for your audition tape! LOVE your booty!"). So, crazy enough to interest the producers over at the Jerz? HEY-OH!
Maybe I shouldn’t post things like this since I’m in the process of trying to become gainfully employed?
Whatev.
Slash Mama, Dad, extended family…I apologize if you read all of this. I really am the nice, semi-normal girl you thought you knew.
I will say, however, that I have grown up a lot since 2008 and 2009. I don’t ice out with strangers or binge drink (on week nights, at least). And this year I have the exciting privilege of spending a weekend out at Harrison’s lakehouse with some very fun, adult-type friends, instead of spending the entirety of Spring Break 2011 working like a sucker. But the number one item at the top of my packing list (yes, I make packing lists, shut up)?
Koozies.
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