And alas, neither will a blog. Apologies to each of my two loyal readers, I'm going to continue to be a bit of a slacker with posts through April. Of course, if you are actually a loyal reader you already know I'm a slacker and rarely post anyways...such is the life of one living in the likes of W Lafayette and writing a thesis - little material to blog about and increasingly less and less time to procrastinate.
Come back later though, once I've successfully muddled through this task, I have big adventures in sight...!
2.02.2010
10.14.2009
Thank you, Delta
I recently caught a flight from Indiana to NC. As I jammed my luggage into the overhead bin and meticulously folded my body into the seat, I quickly found this routine flight morphing into what could only be described as a Broadway musical.
The flight attendants perfectly fit the stereotypical friendly and fabulous flight attendant mold. There were three of them. All with crisp black uniforms, displaying tantalizing splashes of pink every now and then. And not just pink, but hot pink. There were two females, both tiny adorable black women. One had the perfect curls of a female afro, the type that women from every race quietly envy. The other sported the fastidiously styled beehive that only a half can of hairspray can supply. The third was male. A slender pale man with a tailored uniform to accentuate his metrosexual hipbones; his splash of pink taking the form of a starched button-down shirt beneath his black vest. Finely groomed facial hair topped by a dark head of hair with shine that every woman strives for, and a painstackingly placed side-part.
Aside from mere physical appearance, these attendants had the bubbly personality and lightness in their step that one expects to witness in a good flight attendant. They lithely flitted about the middle aisle during the pre-flight pep talk, until I was all but holding my breath in anticipation of the jazz band and choreographed dance.
The flight attendants perfectly fit the stereotypical friendly and fabulous flight attendant mold. There were three of them. All with crisp black uniforms, displaying tantalizing splashes of pink every now and then. And not just pink, but hot pink. There were two females, both tiny adorable black women. One had the perfect curls of a female afro, the type that women from every race quietly envy. The other sported the fastidiously styled beehive that only a half can of hairspray can supply. The third was male. A slender pale man with a tailored uniform to accentuate his metrosexual hipbones; his splash of pink taking the form of a starched button-down shirt beneath his black vest. Finely groomed facial hair topped by a dark head of hair with shine that every woman strives for, and a painstackingly placed side-part.
Aside from mere physical appearance, these attendants had the bubbly personality and lightness in their step that one expects to witness in a good flight attendant. They lithely flitted about the middle aisle during the pre-flight pep talk, until I was all but holding my breath in anticipation of the jazz band and choreographed dance.
Le sigh
Today showed promise...When I was successful in dragging my miserable bum away from the warm embrace of my bed. And then again when I fortuitously found a parking spot closer than Norway to my office building.
Then I dropped my coffee mug. I hoped as I finished parking that the vice-like lid safely stored the coffee within. Instead it broke. And coffee seeped out to form a nice tan puddle about my feet.
Then I was walking to the office and I lost the top of my muffin. It just fell off somewhere; I looked down and all I saw was the dismembered bottom half of a sweet potato muffin.
As I continued walking both of my shoes came untied. I didn't stop to tie them because it was raining and uncharacteristically cold for October. So as I walked both shoes loosened until they were slipping off my heels and making that awesome clip-clop horse sound on the sidewalks. Of course this led to one sock sliding down my foot until it came to a perfectly annoying bundle in the front of my shoe.
Did I mention it's raining?
I need to go back to the Oldsmobile and rest with it in our glorious parking space.
Then I dropped my coffee mug. I hoped as I finished parking that the vice-like lid safely stored the coffee within. Instead it broke. And coffee seeped out to form a nice tan puddle about my feet.
Then I was walking to the office and I lost the top of my muffin. It just fell off somewhere; I looked down and all I saw was the dismembered bottom half of a sweet potato muffin.
As I continued walking both of my shoes came untied. I didn't stop to tie them because it was raining and uncharacteristically cold for October. So as I walked both shoes loosened until they were slipping off my heels and making that awesome clip-clop horse sound on the sidewalks. Of course this led to one sock sliding down my foot until it came to a perfectly annoying bundle in the front of my shoe.
Did I mention it's raining?
I need to go back to the Oldsmobile and rest with it in our glorious parking space.
7.28.2009
Similes
Your bullshit tastes like rancid milk
Your mouth feels like a dank breeze
Your expression is like a demented monkey
Your saunter like a retarded cat
Your words are gnats buzzing in my ear
Your thoughts are those of an inane fool
Your compassion like UFOs, simply not there
Your appearance is that of a cow chewing cud
Your embrace feels like a sweaty sauna
Your kisses, clammy like a sow’s breath
Your everything falls short like Mini Me’s height
Your sensuality, brutal as a crude neutered dog
The feelings you give, vile as rotting flesh
The reaction I have is like that to your bullshit
The pleasure I liken to Keanu Reeve’s acting
The memories, like chew spit stuck to my shoe
Your smile warped into that of the Joker
Your eyes on me feel like biting mosquitoes
Your hands rubbed me raw like course sandpaper
They polished away any good that you had
Your mouth feels like a dank breeze
Your expression is like a demented monkey
Your saunter like a retarded cat
Your words are gnats buzzing in my ear
Your thoughts are those of an inane fool
Your compassion like UFOs, simply not there
Your appearance is that of a cow chewing cud
Your embrace feels like a sweaty sauna
Your kisses, clammy like a sow’s breath
Your everything falls short like Mini Me’s height
Your sensuality, brutal as a crude neutered dog
The feelings you give, vile as rotting flesh
The reaction I have is like that to your bullshit
The pleasure I liken to Keanu Reeve’s acting
The memories, like chew spit stuck to my shoe
Your smile warped into that of the Joker
Your eyes on me feel like biting mosquitoes
Your hands rubbed me raw like course sandpaper
They polished away any good that you had
7.15.2009
A little bday luv; and an UK recap.
What does it mean when you celebrate your birthday by cleaning your room, practicing a presentation, getting a coffee w/ a friend, and going for a run? Granted, the run is much needed; but still, I did say "a run," not "a beer." Well, whatever you've decided, that's what I am. But, eh, I think I'm ok w/ that; it was bound to happen at some point, right?
So England/Belgium (switching directions, pay attention)... was amazing. I have added to my life goals: "Buy a cottage in the English countryside, have multilingual babies that call me "Mum," and daily sit on my fabulous 400 year old porch whilst sipping my tea and feeling superior to all of the little people." Who are the little ppl, you ask - You. You are the little people.
On a more serious note, the history and character of Europe are beautiful and enchanting. Every street we strolled down was filled with charm. Every door was painted a different color and adorned with its own unique door knob, situated in its middle. The streets kept you guessing with their haphazard cobblestone. And the da Vinci-imitating street performer charmed his way into your pockets, to leave you four euro lighter.
Brussels was certainly an enlightening experience for me, as it was my first time meandering through a city of predominantly French-speaking ppls. I've always enjoyed being reminded by my surroundings that I am an insignificant speck in a vast world; you know, like when a mountainous terrain dwarfs you in its enormity, or a dessert landscape threatens to engulf you in emptiness. That is how sharing the streets with throngs of non-English speaking ppl made me feel. I loved it. It was like being a tiny imaginative kid again, and taking all of your stuffed animals and Legos and Barbies and GI Joes to your newly constructed blanket-and-chair fort in the sitting room, and devising your own little world while Mom runs the sweeper all around you...or maybe that was just me. Regardless, I felt like I was a wide-eyed bystander, watching as my accompanying pedestrians walked their way through life. I could do anything, and no one would notice; and I could say anything and no one would hear.
In reality, they probably would notice and would hear, as I was speaking the widely-spoken English language. I'm sure they did notice and did hear and turned to their companion and said, "Did you hear what that idiot American girl just said?"
Anyways it was great. And I want to thank the local Belgians who played along w/ our unfortunate French mutterings and who were very patient with our tedious orders from French menus.
I'll try and post some pics for your wonderment and delight. Not making any promises though. It's my bday and I do what I want - maybe I will; maybe I won't.
So England/Belgium (switching directions, pay attention)... was amazing. I have added to my life goals: "Buy a cottage in the English countryside, have multilingual babies that call me "Mum," and daily sit on my fabulous 400 year old porch whilst sipping my tea and feeling superior to all of the little people." Who are the little ppl, you ask - You. You are the little people.
On a more serious note, the history and character of Europe are beautiful and enchanting. Every street we strolled down was filled with charm. Every door was painted a different color and adorned with its own unique door knob, situated in its middle. The streets kept you guessing with their haphazard cobblestone. And the da Vinci-imitating street performer charmed his way into your pockets, to leave you four euro lighter.
Brussels was certainly an enlightening experience for me, as it was my first time meandering through a city of predominantly French-speaking ppls. I've always enjoyed being reminded by my surroundings that I am an insignificant speck in a vast world; you know, like when a mountainous terrain dwarfs you in its enormity, or a dessert landscape threatens to engulf you in emptiness. That is how sharing the streets with throngs of non-English speaking ppl made me feel. I loved it. It was like being a tiny imaginative kid again, and taking all of your stuffed animals and Legos and Barbies and GI Joes to your newly constructed blanket-and-chair fort in the sitting room, and devising your own little world while Mom runs the sweeper all around you...or maybe that was just me. Regardless, I felt like I was a wide-eyed bystander, watching as my accompanying pedestrians walked their way through life. I could do anything, and no one would notice; and I could say anything and no one would hear.
In reality, they probably would notice and would hear, as I was speaking the widely-spoken English language. I'm sure they did notice and did hear and turned to their companion and said, "Did you hear what that idiot American girl just said?"
Anyways it was great. And I want to thank the local Belgians who played along w/ our unfortunate French mutterings and who were very patient with our tedious orders from French menus.
I'll try and post some pics for your wonderment and delight. Not making any promises though. It's my bday and I do what I want - maybe I will; maybe I won't.
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