Jess, I'm not sure, but I think that song actually goes "its like 10,000 spoons." But nice choice on the Alanis.
So my big news of the day is that I carved my own pumpkin. Twenty-one years of helping my dad and this year I wasn't home to do it, so I brought one back to my apt and just spent the last hour scooping out the pumpkin sludge and carving a face. It has fangs; I'm very creative. While my carved pumpkin probably could have been done better by a five year old weilding a butter knife, I feel seriously accomplished.
Maybe I should reevaluate how I spend my free time.
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
It's Like 2000 Spoons
Isn't it ironic that my first exam of the semester AND the first time I've overslept this semester have occurred on the same day?
And given my life-long quest for irony you can imagine how happy I am.
And given my life-long quest for irony you can imagine how happy I am.
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
Grievance
I have a class in Northeastern University's largest auditorium with 499 other students. I walked in five minutes early yesterday instead of my usual ten and spotted a pretty empty row.
Why exactly must this damn girl with her entire lap top spread decide to sit in the aisle seat of a completely empty row? Everyone who wanted to get into said row had to strategically mountain climb over her and all of her crap. Of course, since it was morning, I was undercaffinated, and carrying my own plethora of crap, I essentially tripped as I was trying to scale her and her Macbook. As I regain my balance I passive aggressively apologized and death-stared her for the next five minutes while imagining creative ways to bust up her damn computer and idiot face.
Some people are so rude.
Why exactly must this damn girl with her entire lap top spread decide to sit in the aisle seat of a completely empty row? Everyone who wanted to get into said row had to strategically mountain climb over her and all of her crap. Of course, since it was morning, I was undercaffinated, and carrying my own plethora of crap, I essentially tripped as I was trying to scale her and her Macbook. As I regain my balance I passive aggressively apologized and death-stared her for the next five minutes while imagining creative ways to bust up her damn computer and idiot face.
Some people are so rude.
Sunday, October 25, 2009
Bombs Away
Lets just say that Jess was not the only one feeling the repercussions of her 22 birthday extravaganza.
As hard as we tried to surprise her, Jess pretty much knew the "surprise" party was coming.. especially considering she made the guest list. So not so much of a surprise as Jess humoring us and pretending not to know exactly what was going on. But despite this, it was all around good fun. And full of ridiculousness.
Like when I fumbled my phone on the balcony and watched it fall three stories into the backyard, where it was raining quite hard. Miracle of the night, it still works. Go Samsung.
And not that me being awkward is anything new, but I recently discovered that I am incapable of getting into a cab normally. Rather than slide in, I always crawl in and sit on my knees.
It causes problems.
Last night on my way home from Jess' not so surprise party, my cab driver either saw something in the road or had a bad night and knew this would amuse him, I'm not sure, but he hit the brakes and I slammed my forehead into the divider. I probably shouldn't ride in cabs alone anymore.
As hard as we tried to surprise her, Jess pretty much knew the "surprise" party was coming.. especially considering she made the guest list. So not so much of a surprise as Jess humoring us and pretending not to know exactly what was going on. But despite this, it was all around good fun. And full of ridiculousness.
Like when I fumbled my phone on the balcony and watched it fall three stories into the backyard, where it was raining quite hard. Miracle of the night, it still works. Go Samsung.
And not that me being awkward is anything new, but I recently discovered that I am incapable of getting into a cab normally. Rather than slide in, I always crawl in and sit on my knees.
It causes problems.
Last night on my way home from Jess' not so surprise party, my cab driver either saw something in the road or had a bad night and knew this would amuse him, I'm not sure, but he hit the brakes and I slammed my forehead into the divider. I probably shouldn't ride in cabs alone anymore.
Embarking upon my 23rd year of life..
It is unsettling to me that birthdays can be the source of so many bad life choices. Surrounding my birthday I took part in copious amounts of drinking comparable to what some may consider alcoholism, I excused myself from work, I also excused myself from class, I ate my weight in Mexican food, and in Italian food. I splurged and bought myself some clothes when I can't even afford groceries, and I wore a damn tiara and sash when I went out on Thursday night.
Thank goodness for my health, and at this point I think its fair to say for the health of others, that birthdays only happen once a year. I don't think my body, grades, or bank account would see many more birthdays if this were consistent behavior.
I hope 22 is a good one. With all of the celebration surrounding it, there have been some standards set.
Old and ready to slow down for the next few weeks (after Halloween),
Jess
Thank goodness for my health, and at this point I think its fair to say for the health of others, that birthdays only happen once a year. I don't think my body, grades, or bank account would see many more birthdays if this were consistent behavior.
I hope 22 is a good one. With all of the celebration surrounding it, there have been some standards set.
Old and ready to slow down for the next few weeks (after Halloween),
Jess
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
Thats What (S)he Said
So last week when I "revived" the blog I fully intended to bring it back full force - as in, write more than once a week. But my inconsistency is astonishing.
Dunkin Donuts seriously underrepresented themselves this morning by giving me my large coffee in a cup with a hole in it. An initially invisible hole, so I didn't notice the gradual soaking of my jacket/bag until I was in class. To salvage as much of the seriously important beverage (I'm literally running on empty this week) I drank fast and burned my tongue. Grr.
Anyway, in my 8am Gender and Sexuality class, a charming combination of feminists, four dudes, and.. well.. me, we were watching a video about Transgendered Post-Ops (female to male) and one of the interviewees, Michael (once Judy) was discussing the male versus the female sex drive.
I'm going somewhere with this, I swear. Just bear with me.
As a woman, Judy/Michael said that all she ever wanted was the feeling of intimacy... the cuddling, if you will. Pretty much had zero sex drive.
Then (s)he started taking testosterone and Michael/Judy basically said "BRING IT ON!" All the time.
I always kind of figured this was a gross exaggeration of the difference between men and women. How much difference can gender really have on a sex drive?
According to Michael/Judy, a lot. And perhaps (s)he is right. I don't know. I've never been a male.
Needless to say, I was a child about the whole situation and started to laugh. Out loud. But because I was simultaneously drinking my disappointing coffee, choking ensued.
Subtle, Annie.
Dunkin Donuts seriously underrepresented themselves this morning by giving me my large coffee in a cup with a hole in it. An initially invisible hole, so I didn't notice the gradual soaking of my jacket/bag until I was in class. To salvage as much of the seriously important beverage (I'm literally running on empty this week) I drank fast and burned my tongue. Grr.
Anyway, in my 8am Gender and Sexuality class, a charming combination of feminists, four dudes, and.. well.. me, we were watching a video about Transgendered Post-Ops (female to male) and one of the interviewees, Michael (once Judy) was discussing the male versus the female sex drive.
I'm going somewhere with this, I swear. Just bear with me.
As a woman, Judy/Michael said that all she ever wanted was the feeling of intimacy... the cuddling, if you will. Pretty much had zero sex drive.
Then (s)he started taking testosterone and Michael/Judy basically said "BRING IT ON!" All the time.
I always kind of figured this was a gross exaggeration of the difference between men and women. How much difference can gender really have on a sex drive?
According to Michael/Judy, a lot. And perhaps (s)he is right. I don't know. I've never been a male.
Needless to say, I was a child about the whole situation and started to laugh. Out loud. But because I was simultaneously drinking my disappointing coffee, choking ensued.
Subtle, Annie.
Monday, October 19, 2009
WHY, GOD, WHY?
Today was abysmal. I have a cold, I'm physically exhausted, I barely had time to eat except on the train and during class, I had a presentation to do in my three-hour class, I had to teach a dance class all the way in Brookline, I had to go to my jazz class, I had three hour rehearsal, and the only thing getting me through all of this was the promise of a slice of red velvet cake that Pam had swiped me from the dining hall. Red velvet cake is my favorite cake. I nearly sprinted home and threw open the fridge and scoured the living room and kitchen for the cup containing my one glimpse of happiness for the entire day. I found the cup. It was in the trash. Empty. My other roommate ate the cake. She ate my happiness.
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
"Slinging" Praises to the Gods of Injury Recovery
I decided to continue the punning.
So, as it turns out, I have strained my rotator cuff muscles. Pro- I don't have to wear a sling. Con- I have to have physical therapy. Pro- My physical therapy includes massage. So let me use my injury as a teaching moment for anyone who reads this:
Do NOT wear just socks when going down stairs, regardless of the amount of flights.
Now, in the spirit of punning, I shall blog about my Shakespeare class. (If that went over anyone's head, it is because Shakespeare LOVED puns.)
My Shakespeare professor is a 30-something-year-old man, who undoubtedly could have been a member of Sesame Street's multicultural, actual human being cast had he chosen a less academic path in life. Well, aside from the fact that he creepily doesn't open his mouth very wide when he speaks and anyone who watches Sesame knows that articulation and animation of face are key components.
ANYWAYS, this man, who assumedly lives with his mother or a herd of cats, never fails to amuse me or Alex during class discussion. He has come up with some gems:
"Well, as the Beatles say... All you need is GLOVE!"
(This is in reference to the Shakespeare family's legacy of glovemaking. The "joke" was followed by raucous laughter from select ass-kissing English majors)
"Have you guys ever tried rhyme?"
(Ok.. I'm not sure how to approach this. Have I ever tried rhyme.. when? Today? Ever? If you mean ever, then YES, I'VE TRIED RHYME, YOU ASS. If you mean today then, well, I haven't necessarily TRIED to rhyme, but perhaps at some point I inadvertantly did. Either way, what the hell kind of question is that in a college literature class?)
"So Shakespeare began his writing in the 1500s, which is the 16th century. I know this sounds confusing. Let me elaborate. So the 1400s are the 15th century, the 1500s are the 16th century, the 1600s are the 17th century and so on. The discrepency falls in the first century, which were the years 0-100. So when it was time for the second century, the years ended up being 100-199."
(OHHHHH, so that explains it. God, I've lived nearly 22 years and never had to learn that before)
The thing that makes this class the worst, is that despite the ridiculous things he says, and despite the fact that he doesn't know a single teaching technique beyond standing in the front of the room and asking, "Ok, so what else stood out from the text?" after each person in the class responds for an hour and forty minutes, and despite the fact that I don't have service in the room so I have to rely on doodling to pass this waste of time, is that there are people in the room that genuinely think he is a funny, brilliant professor. As this class continues I may have to take a tip from someone like Juliet or Lucrece and do myself in before I can't take it anymore, either.
Moving on to a part of my life that is more dear to me. I know this must sound sarcastic since I clearly treasure my Shakespearian education, but it's actually not.
My babies at the Child Center are the most adorable ever. Three is the BEST age. I have learned so much from the little guys. For example, I had NO idea that once kids grew up their penises disappeared. I learned this from one of the little boys, who came to this conclusion because his mother does NOT, in fact, have a penis in her old age. Another interesting thing that I learned today is that even though if the tongue of my sneaker is even a little out of place, I'm really uncomfortable, a three-year-old can run around for two hours with his shoes on the wrong feet and feel great. I've also learned that when kids like books they memorize the crap out of them. To get out of reading a book to one of the little girls today I skipped about twelve pages when she looked away. Without missing a beat she told me that I skipped a lot. I'm a horrible person.
My job teaching dance classes to kindergarteners is also amazing. I get paid $40 a class to sit there while kids jump around the Camp Rock and Ho Down Throw Down for 40 minutes. I want to kiss whoever allotted that much money per class in the After School Enrichment Program on the mouth.
At risk of losing your interest, I'm going to conclude this blog.
-Jess
So, as it turns out, I have strained my rotator cuff muscles. Pro- I don't have to wear a sling. Con- I have to have physical therapy. Pro- My physical therapy includes massage. So let me use my injury as a teaching moment for anyone who reads this:
Do NOT wear just socks when going down stairs, regardless of the amount of flights.
Now, in the spirit of punning, I shall blog about my Shakespeare class. (If that went over anyone's head, it is because Shakespeare LOVED puns.)
My Shakespeare professor is a 30-something-year-old man, who undoubtedly could have been a member of Sesame Street's multicultural, actual human being cast had he chosen a less academic path in life. Well, aside from the fact that he creepily doesn't open his mouth very wide when he speaks and anyone who watches Sesame knows that articulation and animation of face are key components.
ANYWAYS, this man, who assumedly lives with his mother or a herd of cats, never fails to amuse me or Alex during class discussion. He has come up with some gems:
"Well, as the Beatles say... All you need is GLOVE!"
(This is in reference to the Shakespeare family's legacy of glovemaking. The "joke" was followed by raucous laughter from select ass-kissing English majors)
"Have you guys ever tried rhyme?"
(Ok.. I'm not sure how to approach this. Have I ever tried rhyme.. when? Today? Ever? If you mean ever, then YES, I'VE TRIED RHYME, YOU ASS. If you mean today then, well, I haven't necessarily TRIED to rhyme, but perhaps at some point I inadvertantly did. Either way, what the hell kind of question is that in a college literature class?)
"So Shakespeare began his writing in the 1500s, which is the 16th century. I know this sounds confusing. Let me elaborate. So the 1400s are the 15th century, the 1500s are the 16th century, the 1600s are the 17th century and so on. The discrepency falls in the first century, which were the years 0-100. So when it was time for the second century, the years ended up being 100-199."
(OHHHHH, so that explains it. God, I've lived nearly 22 years and never had to learn that before)
The thing that makes this class the worst, is that despite the ridiculous things he says, and despite the fact that he doesn't know a single teaching technique beyond standing in the front of the room and asking, "Ok, so what else stood out from the text?" after each person in the class responds for an hour and forty minutes, and despite the fact that I don't have service in the room so I have to rely on doodling to pass this waste of time, is that there are people in the room that genuinely think he is a funny, brilliant professor. As this class continues I may have to take a tip from someone like Juliet or Lucrece and do myself in before I can't take it anymore, either.
Moving on to a part of my life that is more dear to me. I know this must sound sarcastic since I clearly treasure my Shakespearian education, but it's actually not.
My babies at the Child Center are the most adorable ever. Three is the BEST age. I have learned so much from the little guys. For example, I had NO idea that once kids grew up their penises disappeared. I learned this from one of the little boys, who came to this conclusion because his mother does NOT, in fact, have a penis in her old age. Another interesting thing that I learned today is that even though if the tongue of my sneaker is even a little out of place, I'm really uncomfortable, a three-year-old can run around for two hours with his shoes on the wrong feet and feel great. I've also learned that when kids like books they memorize the crap out of them. To get out of reading a book to one of the little girls today I skipped about twelve pages when she looked away. Without missing a beat she told me that I skipped a lot. I'm a horrible person.
My job teaching dance classes to kindergarteners is also amazing. I get paid $40 a class to sit there while kids jump around the Camp Rock and Ho Down Throw Down for 40 minutes. I want to kiss whoever allotted that much money per class in the After School Enrichment Program on the mouth.
At risk of losing your interest, I'm going to conclude this blog.
-Jess
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
Revival of the Fittest
.... hahaha. puns.
Okay okay, so due to lack of.. well actually due to pure laziness, the Pinetrapple Express took a brief hiatus. But never fear, faithful fans (all 2 of you), Jess and I have returned.
So things to know -
We no longer live in the building with Eartha Kitt, so unfortunately "Eartha Kitt Sightings" will be next to none from here on out. As much as I loved listening to her talking nonsense in various polos and matching fisherman's hats, we have moved on to relatively less ridiculous living arrangements (ie not sharing a bed in a room with a kid named greg in an apartment with no furniture). However, despite the infinite amount of space in my current apartment, I am sure ridiculous items will still find their way into my bed.
Jess and I have started taking walks on Sunday to sweat out the toxins of general college debauchery. While most people our age may have the energy to go to the gym after being alcoholically paralyzed, we are surprisingly ancient. We may look like 21 year olds, but for some reason are both plagued with bad backs, bad knees, and an uncanny ability to collect injuries.
For example, Jess is currently at the campus med center visiting some of Northeastern's fine medical staff due to an incident involving socks and stairs. She may need a sling. If she does, I will be an excellent friend and probably laugh. Sorry Jess. Not that I can talk. Black eye count for 2009 is at 2, and I can't blame anyone but myself.
I am fairly certain that when I logged on to revive the blog, I had somewhere in particular to go with it, but have since lost my train of thought. So, with this post of useless information I will leave you. But don't worry, our 2 fans. We will both be back with words of wisdom (or nonsense) very soon.
Annie
Okay okay, so due to lack of.. well actually due to pure laziness, the Pinetrapple Express took a brief hiatus. But never fear, faithful fans (all 2 of you), Jess and I have returned.
So things to know -
We no longer live in the building with Eartha Kitt, so unfortunately "Eartha Kitt Sightings" will be next to none from here on out. As much as I loved listening to her talking nonsense in various polos and matching fisherman's hats, we have moved on to relatively less ridiculous living arrangements (ie not sharing a bed in a room with a kid named greg in an apartment with no furniture). However, despite the infinite amount of space in my current apartment, I am sure ridiculous items will still find their way into my bed.
Jess and I have started taking walks on Sunday to sweat out the toxins of general college debauchery. While most people our age may have the energy to go to the gym after being alcoholically paralyzed, we are surprisingly ancient. We may look like 21 year olds, but for some reason are both plagued with bad backs, bad knees, and an uncanny ability to collect injuries.
For example, Jess is currently at the campus med center visiting some of Northeastern's fine medical staff due to an incident involving socks and stairs. She may need a sling. If she does, I will be an excellent friend and probably laugh. Sorry Jess. Not that I can talk. Black eye count for 2009 is at 2, and I can't blame anyone but myself.
I am fairly certain that when I logged on to revive the blog, I had somewhere in particular to go with it, but have since lost my train of thought. So, with this post of useless information I will leave you. But don't worry, our 2 fans. We will both be back with words of wisdom (or nonsense) very soon.
Annie
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