Saturday, May 23, 2009

Apparently Summers are Difficult.


One would think that, without a job and without classes, I would be blogging it up! But no... apparently occupation is the mother of blogging.

I will preface my first graduate post by saying: The summer will be slow. And... continue:

Things Adults Talk About, in no specific order:

1. EZPass

2. Aches and Pains

3. Sales and How Much Things Cost

4. Diseases (compliments TMcD)

5. How Lost Our (as in you and me, not the Adults) Generation Is (compliments TMcD)

6. Charlie Horses (IDK about this one... K suggested. haha)

7. The pleasantries of giving business to one company over another, and in conjunction...

8. The criticisms of businesses who do not deserve receiving business.

9. The way things (like well water and septic tanks) work.

10. What is the best way to kick children out of homes when the children are approaching 30.

11. The pros and cons of croquette vs. horse shoes

12. Which dressing is best for pasta salad, and a chronology of dressings used prior to the current pasta salad dressing.

13. Cell phones. Cell service. Hand-held technological devices, and how they can't figure them out but they can't remember how they got on without them.

14. Hitchhiking.

15. The best highways to use.

16. Tolls.


Did I miss anything?

Saturday, May 16, 2009

Ducks Graduate. And some Non-sequiturs.


Well, today is the end of an era. As my dad would say as he quotes the great Sam Clemens, "I've been through some horrible things in my life, some of which actually happened." I'm not sure if the shaking in my body is from my nerves or from all the vodka redbulls I had last night.

Probably the latter, if we consider both the affects of alcohol and taurine versus my baseline behavior in other milestone events.

At my high school graduation, I couldn't get out of there faster. So done. So ready to move on. In HS Graduation I was sitting next to this girl who is the eleventh of thirteen brothers and sisters, and she started crying. At first I thought, "Ya, I guess it would be sad, esp having to leave a large family like that." Then all the rest of the girls and a few guys in my row also started crying.

Then I immediately thought, "Oh, wow. I'm so glad to be getting out of here. No more Deer Hunter games at the pool hall. No more Tractor Day. No more watching my friends chug a gallon of milk, throw it up, and then the next friend try and see if they can do it, before of course throwing up themselves... all while Homecoming is going on."

But now, looking back at what I originally thought about the girl next to me crying, I still think my subsequent thought reaction was appropriate, but I would like to qualify my reaction to the first girl:

It doesn't matter how large your family is for this liminal space to seem so... unliminal. haha. I don't really know what I'm saying anymore... I think my hangover is starting to set in.

Last night, as I went downstairs to pick up my order of hot wings from Pizza Movers (it was the only place open at 3:40am) I started imitating E.T.

Eliot. Eliot, be good. (good rhymes with food in this instance, in case you forgot how E.T. speaks)

So cool, man. The end of his finger lights up.

Also... another thing I thought of while writing this post: when I (and many others) abbreviate the words like "esp" or "idk" or "nvm" there really is no way to say those 'words' literally. Isn't that interesting? We've moved from a world in which words and the idea they signify are difficult to separate in our minds into a world in which that separation is almost irrelevant. It's like... we don't even need the aural signifier for communication anymore. kk ttyl cya. Those aren't words. They're ideas.... weirrrrrd.

Alright, I'm taking a Gummy Vite and rolling some topical caffeine under my eyeballs. Woo. Woo. Woo.

Yea College!

Lovey,

Leah.

P.S. Just so you know on what I look upon as writing this morning: a room with no visible floor, and a lot of paint chips all over the place. Don't tell maintenance or housing, but Keren and I had to sand and paint parts of our wall... oops. We didn't know her dad's industrial tape would be so.... industrial. (Btw, you can totally still tell that the wall is effed up.)

Wednesday, May 13, 2009

Infomercial-->Slap Rap?

Friday, May 8, 2009

COLOUR.

Thursday, May 7, 2009

SHARKSPEARE

Wednesday, May 6, 2009

Beshaudyldacrylebotecelliputacatepillississimo


Pifdylli y thregbatter rehn burther cohyn rhuet wheurityn. Ohng yurhknut shuftergurgurgwherner y purhehrnumorit. Quoricthirth iourthyier shoullet. Pifdylli y thregbatter rehn qherourourellesly y zhycamera zigot zygote?

Bluhr quibster ashcanter fohlgerum tridental.

Vuhnsternbergur!

:)

Enh...rhemun opticlytia (shurgs shulders).

(Twelve hours later...)


What I think I mean to say: I'm having difficulty expressing myself verbally.

Physical gesture to express how Ducks is feeling:

Lying on floor of living room. Forehead to carpet. Waving arms at sides like the making of a Snow Angel.

Lolling tongue outside of mouth. Dropping chin to neck, and looking upwards into Purgatory.

Erm... I don't really know what else (shurgs shulders).

Vuhnsternburger!

Monday, May 4, 2009

Contents of an Alien Dob Kit:


1. Effervescent blue spackling paste made from any type of building material (such as concrete or human bathroom tiling) used to heal neon green bleeding from thorax.

2. Personal sized Infrared Interferometer (It picked up from the equivalent of the sample-sized dollar bins at CVS) used for finding life.

3. X-Ray mirror (hand held) used for even deeper inspection of pores, blackheads, blemishes, and the like. Especially used among the metrosexual alien demographic, and of course, women aliens.

4. Miscellaneous paper that It threw into the dob kit as it rushed to check out of the hotel room in the morning:
a) The equivalent of the human palm card that contains pre-calculated tips for a list of meal prices (i.e. Cost of Meal: $20.00 --> Tip: $3.00).
The Alien's "tipping" palm card includes the elements of the Drake Equation, which approximates the number of planets containing Life:
-The rate of formation of suitable stars.
-The fraction of those stars which contain planets.
-The number of Earth-like worlds per planetary system.
-The fraction of planets where intelligent life develops.
-The fraction of possible communicative planets.
-The “lifetime” of possible communicative civilizations.

b) Other miscellany paper products randomly strewn about the dob kit, including the Soviet Union's 1967 stamp, shown at right and the receipt from Seven Eleven for a 3-pack of Magnums.

5. A vile of Expanding Liquid Water, for shaving in transit, as in--IN SPACE. And a razor: Gillette, of course.

6. A small black box nicknamed the Substrictus Alienus Cache (of course, the Alien who owns a dob kit will be in love with Roman history, and thus he names this black box in the Latin words for Small Foreign Cache).

The SAC is used as a prison for microbial life, which is the most common race of enemies for aliens. He realized however that on Earth, humans do not fit in the Substrictus Alienus Cache, and microbial life on Earth is the least of the enemies unless harnessed by Middle Easterners who then spread the microbial life in places in which the Substrictus Alienus is unhappy... and then it kills humans and other large beings.

7. a) A vile of a base dilute ethanol (70%-90%)
b) Oil of lemon, orange, or bergamot
c) A sprig of rosemary, lavendar, or jasmine
(aka Eau de Cologne)

8. A comb, with various spacing and sizing of teeth.

Saturday, May 2, 2009

Cha-Quack Amex Card, also: Religion Maybe.


Funny word: cause/Cause

"It's for the Cause!"

"So the It is causing the Cause?"

Speaking of causes and Causes...

Anecdote:

A girl eats lunch with her business partner, who is also a woman.

After discussing sundry business items that they had written on their small leather agenda books, the one girl sighs.

The other girl asks why the first girl sighs. The sighing girl responds, "Boys."

The other girl looks up to Heaven and says, "Oh my women relatives, why did we not heed your warning?"

Both girls look at each other and realize that they make no sense. They return to the last item on their business agenda: Cha-Quack Amex small business card.

End.

So this got me to thinking about the choices that we have: The Choice we all have to look up or down when speaking to dead relatives: Shouldn't we do both just to cover our bases? Up and Down.... you know, just in case?

Or if you're a Dante-ist (not a Catholic), you can look directly forward into nothing, and address those dead relations stuck in Purgatory.

What's with getting rid of Purgatory anyway? It completely changed the Catholic dogma.

Now's it's catma.

A sufficient number of reasons why we need Purgatory, and so it should be reinstated:

1) 80-year old sluts.

2) Afterlife housing for the refugees who were displaced after Purgatory was gotten rid of.

3) The DULL. The ones who aren't good or bad, but just making the world suffer with their mediocrity.

4) Baby-killers (before the third trimester... I mean, really... it's not that bad, but it's BAD.)

I think those are good causes for the Cause.

In nomine Patris et fillii et Spiritus Sancti.

-Leah, wife of Jacob

-Keren, rhymes w/ Heron

Love's Labour's Lost: it's not love, it's masturbation.


If y'all haven't heard yet: the Swine Flu (or if you are currently in Israel reading DWTD: the Mexican Flu) has come to GW. The girls were moved from Thurston Hall to City Hall because GW can get more money out of Freshman than Juniors, who have already paid so it doesn't matter if their parents complain and threaten to withdraw their sons and daughters (quothe the cynic Steve R.)

Well, I don't know about all y'all cowards and hypochondriacs, but I'm not going to give up a good time just because of the SWINE FLU. Puh-lease. Pshaw.

During my good time last night, I came across this guy named Roddy Doyle who I have had my eye on for a while. We were flirting and having a good time. He held my hand. We drove around the city. It was all whirlwind, heat, and flash. We killed my parents and were on the road before we knew what we were doing.

And then Roddy Doyle turned to me and said, "You know, you can tell when a woman is in love with you because they come during sex, and they come quickly."

I proceeded to laugh: "HAHAHA!"

Thought he was joking. Thought this was funny. Turns out, this kid was serious. He really thinks that when women finish quickly it means that they are in love with their partners. I have news for him and for the other men out there who may think the same: It's not LOVE, it's self stimulation when you're not looking.

If it's not self stimulation on the sly, then our partner just happens to be one of the following: 1) very experienced or 2) making us feel very comfortable or 3) we're drunk enough to be comfortable even if you're not that great in bed.

I let him drop me off around the corner from my building, and laughed all the way to my door. Then laughed some more when I crossed my apt's threshold.

So, Roddy Doyle: you're a great flirt, but the love-logic part of the brain seemed faulty for a minute or two.

Sorry.

-Leah, wife of Jacob