Wait.. Did We Really Fight Mexico in WWI?

I suppose the above statement could be categorized as "Things Annie Tried to Say." I promise, I am not that pathetically obtuse.. it was more of a "Things Annie Should Have Thought About Before Speaking Aloud" moments.

In any case, with the semester winding down much faster than I expected, I am in full job search mode. Finding a co-op would be so much easier if I didn't have the one stipulation of GETTING PAID. Were I to put aside my financial discrepencies and once again work over 40 hours a week for free, I am sure I would have a job by now. But realistically speaking, I simply cannot live anywhere but at my parent's house were I to rely solely on what is, or isn't (for that matter) in my bank account.

I did have a phone interview today, which, let me tell you, is the only way to interview. Not only do I not have to worry about how professional to look in order to make a respectable first impression, but I was able to a) do my laundry and b) clean my bathroom at the same time. Three cheers for multitasking.

And yes, I literally cleaned my bathroom. Not just moved all the dirty clothes from their permanent pile near the shower, but actually bleached all bathroom surfaces. And it is surprisingly rewarding. I'm becoming progressively more domestic - I wish I could have taken a picture of the utter disaster that was my apt last year and compare it to the significantly less embarrassing state of my current one. It is a comparison worthy of a before-and-after infomercial... I should invent some bizarre organizational tool just so that I can share this transformation with the world.

Should I take it as a sign of my increasing middle-agedness that I enjoyed cleaning my bathroom? Along with taking walks with Jess, watching meteor showers (or lack there of) in the quad, and playing the USAToday crossword puzzle (not to be redundant) daily? Maybe. But if being prematurely middle-aged means I can dance to John Mellenkamp in a hall worthy of your local VFW with minimal movement and consider it one of the most entertaining nights of the year, then bring it on, baby.

The Bloodhounds. The Trapsetters.

As if I wasn't already busy enough, I've been sucked into this time eater called The Caucasian Chalk Circle, which is a Brechtian play about a bunch of crap that I still don't really understand. I have spent more time sitting in the big dressing room in Ell hall than I have in my own apartment.

Now, don't get me wrong--I love to perform and I enjoy it immensely, but this play is just bananas. And three hours long. I am supposed to keep a journal about the rehearsal and performance process for a class and one journal entry says, "Today we worked on the second and third stories of the play. So I sat and did other homework for three hours."

I suppose I had nowhere to go with this, aside from being able to vent a little bit. And it serves me right because when I'm not held up in the dressing room or on stage for three hours, I am spending my time during the day steaming costumes for the 90+ characters that are portrayed in this piece.

In short, I may not be a business or premed student, but I substitute their hours upon hours of homework for costume-steaming, sitting, and suffering from cracked skin and the threat of mercury poisoning if one of the dressing room lightbulbs happens to break...again.

Dear Dining Hall,

As much as I appreciate the delicious pizza, the endless options of food, and the newly expanded selection of desserts, I LOATHE you for being so accessible. Rest assured, dining hall, that there is a special fatty area spanning from my gut to my thighs that has your name written all over it.

Love,

Jess

Frizz, the Whiz

Halloween in college still baffles me. I find it amusing how Halloween is really fun and cool until you hit like 7th grade and become "too good" for it, and then you get to freshman year of college and all of a sudden it's back.

I suppose saying Halloween comes back is incorrect, because it is an entirely different holiday when you are in college. It is the one weekend, yes weekend, of the year when dressing like a two-bit whore is not only acceptable, but encouraged. I saw a group of five girls dressed as the slutty versions of the following: A pirate, fire fighter, racecar driver, nurse, and police officer. Quite possibly the most cliche bunch of the night.

I firmly believe that if you choose to dress slutty on Halloween then your freshman year is the prime time to do it. How else could you so easily exude your sexuality and use it to get older guys to like you and buy you alcohol? Once you hit sophomore year, though, it is time to get creative. I get sad when I see people my age still pulling the same tricks as the freshmen girls because, let's face it, once you are in your 4th year of college you are not only an adult, but it is likely that the years of dining hall food combined with hours of sitting and studying have wreaked some sort of havoc on your body. I saw more costumes that were scary due to the amount of excess flub pouring out of them than I was of the costumes covered in blood and gore.

Time to get creative, young adults. Save your lingerie for the bedroom and Halloween in college can be a more aesthetically pleasing experience for all.

And cheers to being Miss Frizzle for a night. I never realized how many people loved those books like I did!