Yes. I want a doctorate from this place.

Overheard in the union:

Guy on phone: “Dude. I did something bad. *pause* No, really bad. *pause* No, I peed on her! *longer pause* Yeah, I was wasted. *pause* No, it wasn’t that bad. She had to wake me up to tell me. She slept on the floor. This morning was fine. *pause* No, trust me. We’ll talk about it later. I have to go to class.”

Oh. My. Lord.

Sports-Related Revelations

– I really, really enjoy buying alcohol for myself. I never got off on any of the typical teenager/adolescent stuff, but these last nine months? Being able to buy my own drinks? SO MUCH FUN. I don’t care if it’s juvenile and immature. IT’S FUN.

-I really, really hope I put my license back in my purse.

-I did. Oh good.

– It takes me a few innings to figure out what’s going on. Like, who’s hitting the ball.

– Once I get it though, I’m not nearly as stupid as I may appear.

– Well. Okay. Still pretty stupid.

– Beyonce’s Single Ladies coming on in a mixed crowd is just…awkward.

– Those little rakey guys who run around making the dirt all pretty again? My favorite part.

– Yep. Still pretty stupid.

A neurotic day

Scene: Kitchen, Chez Morena

Morena: *breezing in* So I want to register for the GRE this week…

Mom: *chokes* You want to what?

Morena: Register for the GRE. For later in the summer.

Mom: Oh. That makes more sense. I thought you said “take” and you don’t just “take” tests without any freaking out.

Morena: *laughing* Oh, you mean this huge test that is the only test that will ever matter in my entire life? Hahaha. Yeah. No. Believe me. We’re leaving plenty of time for the breakdowns.

Mom: That’s what I figured.

***

On to the TMI portion of the afternoon…I have a teensy little rash. It’s hardly disfiguring, and it’s not on any weird body part or anything- just some bumps on my upper arms.

Of course, in my head, you know that scene from Star Trek? When Kirk is having a reaction to something? Well, McCoy could totally just jab me with the hypospray because I spent the afternoon alternately dying of skin cancer, second degree burns, or (my nemesis) meningitis.

Answers.yahoo.com had no answers at all, thank you very much. Except that I should call my dermy. Well, I don’t want to call Dermy. Dermy is far away, and he requires a copay. I want answers.yahoo.com to tell me something that Sophie2459 in Arkansas used to make it go away.

Ultimately decided that it was probably just a sunburn rash and not anything deadly. Of course, meningitis is sneaky like that.

You’re welcome, customers and fellow employees.

At work we tend to listen to banal music. Music that fluctuates from “Hey, I used to like this song before I heard it nineteen times,” to “Well, this is mildly irritating,” to “Dear God, would someone please make Celtic Women shut the frick up?”

Today we had Peter, Paul, and Mary. And I couldn’t take it anymore. So I made an executive decision that we would listen to “Chess: The Musical” and “Phantom of the Opera”.

But not on the usual random. Oh. No. All the way through. Because I don’t know about you, but I cannot be expected to maintain a narrative flow when you’re jumping between “Masquerade” and “Angel of Music” like a crazy person. Please. We are not barbarians.

I also discovered that I really need to go out and buy Chess, because there is a CD out there! With Josh singing on it! And I don’t have it! And the seventeen-year-old fangirl that was has taken up residence in my head and won’t stop screaming about it.

Drama, Drama, Drama

We watched Frost/Nixon tonight, and, well, Imladris called it a “liberal orgasm”. My mom had different words for it, but yeah, it pretty much was two hours of OMG NIXON CRAZY BASTARD and oh, wait, he might be getting dementia or possibly be an alcoholic we’re not sure so we’re just going to shove it in at the end of the movie.

I’m no Nixon fan, don’t get me wrong. But I’ve watched the actual Frost/Nixon interviews, and while he definitely admitted some wrongdoing, he certainly never admitted to obstruction of justice, and not a whole lot of other major bombshells were dropped. At no point did Kevin Bacon rush in to stop the tape before he admitted to criminal activity.

I would like to put forth the theory that, amongst all of the untruths, the one that said John Birt looked like Matthew McFayden is one of the most egregious.

From the Editor

My sister woud like you do know that she is not a raging anti-semite like she seems to think you would have inferred from last night’s post. Except I’m not entirely sure why she thinks that, but rest assured, she loves the Jews.

I would like you to know that I saw The Proposal this evening and it was funny and cute and uplifting and way less tupid than other rom coms I’ve seen. (Except The Holiday. I think I am the only person in the ENTIRE world who liked that movie, but dammit, I did.)

It was just my mom and sister and me, and I really feel like we should have taken advantage of the fact that Dad wasn’t there and gone to see Star Trek again. Because I want to go back. Badly. But without all the whining. That just killed my buzz.

I’m still Catholic, don’t freak out.

I was kidding Colleen yesterday about her using God’s name and she goes, “Yeah, well, you’re a Jewish studies major. Don’t tell me about my God.”

It was funny.

And yeah, I think I’m probably going to end up replacing religious studies with that. Which means a.) I was weirdly prophetic a month ago, and b.) two down, one to go. By dropping religious studies, I can drop my Gnosticism class, which will bring my credit level down to 18, which is considered regular tuition, which means I don’t need to come up with a $900 overload fee, which I don’t have, which means I don’t have to borrow like $700 from my parents again. All of that- is a good thing.

The thesis thing also kind of resolves itself if I end up doing this- obviously the only way to make it count as the Jewish studies capstone is to write about the Jews, so there you go. Thesis topic found.

Now I just need to take the GRE and I will be all ready to go back to school!

Kathleen’s Very Big Adventure

For a variety of reasons that have to do with well, a variety of reasons, I am spending today at UnWed Mothers, as my father so wittingly calls it. (Eh, he doesn’t donate to the alumni fund, what does it matter?) I’ve still got about two hours left (Hopefully less- I don’t know a single professor that wants to go the whole damn lecture time on the first day of a summer class…but this is also the guy who willingly went to the Arctic for a few months. Clearly he’s not sane.) and already I’ve had SO MANY EXPERIENCES.

We began the day by being enchanted by the swarms of College For Kids kids around campus. Back in the day when Morena was a Little Morena, Rockford would send her and Little Imladris to College For Kids. Oh, the imperial fun we had. Pretending to hold up Curtin Hall while Erin Shanley laid underneath it, having lunch, learning about the atmosphere, having lunch, playing magic tricks with the kindergarten teacher from St. Eugene’s, having lunch outside…

(Little Morena really enjoyed eating lunch. Especially when it was a sub. Ironically, I never go to City Subs now. But damn did I love it when I was little!)

The Tsarevitch and Rockford would cool their heels in the “munion” as Tsarevitch would call it for what seemed hours but I’m sure was like 45 minutes in reality.

Good times.

Also, I didn’t pay for the tuition.

Better times.

Then we arrived at the Grind, and I discovered my deeply disturbing almost Pavlovian response to school and muffins. I think it must have come from the Concordia days, but whenever I’m at school, I need a muffin. I didn’t particularly want a muffin this morning (any more than I ALWAYS want a muffin), but I was at school! Clearly I needed one!

And you know what? IT WAS GOOD.

After licking the crumbs off the table (What? It’s summer. There’s no one here!) I did some internet stuff I’ve been meaning to do for like weeks but I haven’t because when I’m home I turn into a Facebook drone, staring numbly at the screen as I wait for some girl I went to grade school with to post pictures of her semester abroad and maybe she’ll be drunk in some of them. It’s really hard to do that in an open computer lab, because it makes stalking feel more like stalking and constantly refreshing your own page? Just makes you look narcissistic.

Then I decided that I’m almost positively majoring in Jewish Studies at least as soon as I get up the courage to ask the Religious Studies woman for a dropped major form and that’s currently freaking me out because she’s a scary, scary woman who makes children and quite possibly Jesus weep.

All that soul-searching and career changing kind of jacked me up, so I went for a walk. Kind of roaming, because I didn’t want to get too far west or south because I’m a chicken little white girl from Grafton. When I ended up on Oakland I started walking faster. Also discovered that I’m a stupid chicken little white girl from Grafton because dude, it’s like 95 degrees outside and you just walked for an HOUR and twenty minutes? Shall we call the ambulance to rehydrate you now or wait until you actually collapse?

(I kid. I kept hydrated. With Holton Hall water, sweet nectar of the Gods.)

But then- then came the best part of the whole day. I saw- wait for it- BIG DADDY. And I’m not entirely sure he knew who I was but he smiled and asked me how I was and I had to refrain from saying, “Good! And you regrew that creepy little beard! Good call, you looked like a twelve-year-old without it!”, instead replying, “Just fine. How are you?” whilst texting the whole creepy-beard-twelve-year-old thing to Katie. Because she obviously needed to know about this RIGHT THEN.

Ahh. Methods. How I miss you.

So. Now I think I may go eat some yogurt. Who knows what else may happen?

Day 4

It’s the fourth day that it’s been kind of warm out and damn, I do not like this. I always forget how much I don’t like this. And then it comes back and SERIOUSLY HATE. I want to move to Alaska. Or Canada. Because while I certainly don’t believe that they’ve figured out universal health care, I’m thinking that if someone gave me a band aid for free it would be better than the plan I’ll be able to afford once I get kicked off of my parents’ plan.

(September 11, 2012. I live in fear.)

What else happened today? Jon and Kate Plus 8 because Jon and/or Kate Plus 8 Most of the Time And On Alternating Weekends. That’s kind of depressing.

My sister is starting a summer class tomorrow and I’m kind of jealous. That’s kind of depressing too.

I am the Samuel Pepys of blogging.

Is anyone else into Restoration-era diarists? No. Just me. Oh…okay.

But at least Sam had, you know, like the Great Fire of London to write about. I…have a broken air conditioner in a house that other people are living in. And I’m planning on getting coffee tomorrow with friends. And e-mailing a neighbor as soon as I come up with a polite, non-crazy way of saying OH MY GOD PLEASE TELL ME EVERYTHING IS GOING TO BE OKAY AND I’LL HAVE A JOB AT SOME POINT AND NOT DIE SURROUNDED BY ARTICLES THAT NEVER GOT PUBLISHED BUT NO CHILDREN.

Is there a non-crazy way of saying that?

I’m watching The Nanny. It is every bit as addictive as it was six years ago when Mary and I were able to quote it. God bless Nick at Nite.

Maybe Sam would have been more interesting if he were a slightly neurotic prospective grad student and had access to basic cable.