Laundry

How do any clothes survive that cruel world that we purposefully throw them into, known as the washing machine? I've just watched my clothes be beaten into a pulpy, wet mass, thrown about hodgepodge for forty five minutes.

The best thing about laundry, when you're in your own home, is cleaning that lint trapper thing on the dryer. Pulling that solid sheet of fluffiness out in one go is so satisfying. The worst thing about laundry, when you're not in your own home (communal w/d), is cleaning that lint trapper thing on the dryer. Reaching out with trepidation, touching as little as possible, and tentatively trying to get that gross, generic grey mass out of there, thinking, I'm only doing this because probably no one else will, and if no one else does, then eventually mysterious horrible things will happen to this dryer, and as much as I hate these godforsaken communal machines that leak oil onto my clothes, I still don't want to walk all the way over to the next building.

And so, you clean the lint thingie on the communal dryer.

There's a little timer thing on our w/d, that let's you see precisely how many minutes are left. I used to think this was very handy in comparison to the vague dial, which you look at and know that there's only a little bit left til it reaches the end, but who knows how long that is, and that spot at which is turns off is a sort of vague, indeterminate land, with no clear boundaries. So who knows when that thing is finishing.

Anyways, I used to think that the minute counter thing was handy, until I realized that it means absolutely nothing. Should I say jack shit, there? 'Cause it really seems to fit so well. "...until I realized that it means jack shit." I don't even know what "jack shit" means. Let's find out. All of urbandictionary.com's definitions are very boring, except for a comical one that involves the genealogy of "Jack Shitt." Check it out if you care. Anyways, I used to think that minute counter thing was handy, until I was sitting around today, waiting for the washer to finish to move my clothes over, and it said five minutes left. "Great," I thought (foolishly), "I'll just burn five minutes on the computer and then switch them over. Well, four minutes were over in about ten minutes, and then the washer continued to run for I am not kidding you fifteen more minutes with that 00:01 staring me in the face. So that five minutes ultimately lasted about 25 minutes. What liars.

While I stood staring at the washer, waiting for the 00:01 to reach 00:00, it finally reached its final spin cycle thing, where it whirs about really quickly. I've heard this in the house, as it goes crazy, but never really watched it before. And let me tell you, that thing is impressive. The entire washer wiggles about with the force of its spinning. It reminded me of the jet engine things on planes, whenever something bad is happening. I was afraid that just standing there, I was going to be sucked in a la nameless guy in Lost episode one or No Capes! guy in The Incredibles. Luckily the jet engine that is this house's washer limited its death spin to my poor clothes.

How about this, eh? A post that has one uniform theme throughout. Amazing!

First Year Dorm Room

Here it is. At last. That peak into what life was like first year at StFX. So, this is just a quick video of my dorm room first year, in MacIsaac Hall. Let me preface this by saying, I know my voice is amazingly deep in it. I don't know if that's how I normally sound. Maybe I just had a cold or soemthing when I took this; I can only hope.



And also, as a bonus, once I finish getting it edited, loaded, and then put in here, a brief, very brief look at campus from the football stands during the homecoming football game.



Okay, let's see what this video entails. It first has the science building (where I never go), then the ugly tall(ish) building is Nicholson Tower. There's a building that you can't see attached to it, which is Nicholson Hall, and that's where almost all of my classes are. Same style as Nicholson Tower, though. The squat building next is The Annex, which is where the psych department is. It's a very friendly building inside, and all of my psych professors' offices are there. Then, almost indistinguishable from The Annex, is the Student's Union Building. PO Boxes, proper food, bookstore, etc. are within. And the last building, (as you can see, very isolated from the rest of campus. It's the absolute far corner) is MacIsaac, my dorm first year. There's a brief glimpse of another building, but that doesn't matter much.

little bits

It's amusing when hardcore adoring fans write the bios on imdb. I just read about the "smoothly virile" Clive Owen. But what's strange is that there's practically nothing about Maggie Smith. Practically a book for Clive Owen, though. How unfair.

You know how when you're around someone, and as you're listening to the things coming out of their mouth, you're thinking, "Wow, this person doesn't have a clue what they're talking about. What a stupid, uninformed comment to make. Is that what they thought was going on? How wrong." But you're polite and bite your tongue, and just smile and say something kind of noncommittal. Well, I wonder how often people are biting their tongues around me. I can always trust Anne and Ben K to come out with their completely honest opinion of what I'm saying. It's true, sometimes that's unpleasant, but it makes all the other times that much more enjoyable.

I die all the time in my dreams, Jaime. Not frequently, but it's happened at least twenty or so times. I just switch to either a third person perspective, or to a new character.

I really hope that Moira isn't horrified once she sees what they're actually learning in school.

Disturbing Dream

There was one thing that I had to say about the amazingly mediocre movie Imagine Me & You. Piper Perabo is in it. And she. is. so. irritating. She has this completely fake-seeming smile that says, "I'm so happy and content and carefree," but she has it all the time. GAH. I want to slap it off of her face, and say, someone ought to tell you that you're supposed to try and behave normally when acting.

So. I'm about to talk about my disturbing dream. It gets kind of gross. Skip it if you're squeamish.

I had a very disturbing dream last night. I was running away from somehting, don't know what, through the jungle. Eventually, I had to stop running, and laid down to sleep. While I was sleeping (I was looking down on my body, so I know this), two snakes crawled down my mouth and into my stomach, where they went to sleep. When I woke up, I was like, "Oh no!" 'cause I knew the snakes were asleep in my stomach. So I got up very slowly, and walked along very very carefully, to try to not wake the snakes up, 'cause they were poisonous, and I didn't want them to wake up, freak out upon finding they were inside a body and sort of semi-trapped, and bite me. I made it almost home, when sure enough, the snakes woke up and bit me. Did I mention they were poisonous? So I went home in Different Universe Land, where there was a very nice loft and beautifully carved wooden furniture, and sheerish linen drapery. Ah yes, I remember, someone was getting married. Anne. And I was supposed to be her maid of honor. Well, to make a long story short, I was told that since the snake bit was internal, nothing could be done to treat it. Slowly, my internal organs started to liquify. And I began bleeding from my mouth, nose, and anus. I continued helping Anne with preparations, trying to have fun while there was still time left. No one really seemed to mind the bleeding that much. I was almost dead when, thank goodness, Dad walked in and woke me up to tell me he was going to work. I don't know if I can properly describe the feeling of inevitable, slow death by anal, nasal, and oral bleeding of liquified innards, and trying to have fun while it was happening, but feeling that I was slowly emptying and it wouldn't be much longer. I feel soooo disturbed.

Oh, did you know there's a Virgin American Airlines starting up? San Francisco is its hub, doesn't that seem odd?

Well, after spending an hour getting this huge, painful splinter out of hte bottom of my foot (I'm bleeding now that I've pulled it out), I'm going to bed. I sincerely hope my dreams tonight are better.

Vent

Okay, I was wasting time on IMDB, going through the red carpet photos of Harry Potter and hte Order of the Phoenix. There were your usual cast members, plus a couple of pleasant surprises, like Masi Oka, Seth Green, and Emily Procter. But there were endless pictures of some girl wearing black nail polish with a look like...that one girl...Avril Lavigne pre-reform? I don't know. And throwing peace signs at the camera as if she were Japanese. Finally, I just had to find out who was such an apparently pervasive and well-liked presence at the HP premier. I follow the link to her IMDB profile, and there are all of these pictures of her throwing, pardon my French, slut eyes at the camera, scantily clad, and then I notice her birthday--she's fifteen years old!!?? !? ?! I know, I sound like a stick stuck in some very squelchy, thick mud. But seriously, is it crazy for me to wonder where this girl's mother is? Augh, I had to close the window. Just looking at her was making me mad.

So, I just watched the amazingly mediocre movie Imagine Me & You. I'm not even going to waste your time with a review, just don't bother to ever see it.

I suppose it takes a personality like mine to watch Stardust and absolutely love it. Five stars for me on Netflix, I think. So go ahead and smugly say, "cute," Brad, but I'll love it with pride. :-P

This Year's Class Schedule

B&B=Brain and Behavior
RM&S= Data in Psychological Research (I took Research Methods and Statistics last year, and this is technically the same thing just "advanced," so I made it easier for myself by using the same abbreviation as last year.)

You might want to click this so you can actually see it. Originally, my schedule came in this horrible, hard to readish thing with two columns for every day, spread over two pages, and the information only provided the class # and location. So, a little while with photoshop later, I have my own neat, easy on the eyes schedule, with all the info I need in the boxes. I'll have fun color-coding it with colored pencils later on.

Oooooh, I only just now understand why my erasing in Photoshop was leaving behind blue marks. Oh well! I don't think they're too bad.

Coffee is best when it's half milk. I've just eaten four pieces of biscotti in like five minutes, and now I have a tummy ache. :(

Eine Kleine Nachtwriting

I love trying to play obviously incorrect words on Scrabble on Facebook.

Sometimes I think that there's a limit to how much of Dad's music I can listen to before I go insane. I must be so intolerant in other areas of my life because I spend all my tolerance living with Dad. By the time I see anyone else, it's all gone. If you think that perhaps the songs he listens to couldn't be that bad, just listen to this: Beatles played softly on the piano (hotel lobby style) with fake nature sounds in the background. There are owls, birds, babbling brooks, and even occasionally some ocean surf! Anne, you will never know how grateful I was when you got Dad the soundtrack to Something's Gotta Give, and Dad liked it. It meant months on end of tolerable songs. Thankfully, though, I don't have to put up with Olivia Newton John anymore.

I think it's amusing that I'm the intolerant one, yet Dad will never tolerate any of my music. This is all one-sided tolerance!!

You know that song at the beginning of Kill Bill Vol. I? "Bang bang, he shot me down, bang bang, I hit the ground, bang bang, bang bang, my baby shot me down." I love that song.


So, I finally saw the movie Secretary. I heard a lot of mixed reviews about this. Anne Marie gave it four stars on Netflix, Brad gave it three, and Ben and Jaime gave it one. In fact, Ben and Jaime absolutely hated it. Told me to steeeeer clear. So of course after all of this I had to see. I already had it at home, and had been meaning to see it for ages, and finally the time had come. Even more finally, you're going to get to hear what I thought of it. :-P


I loved it! Two nicheless people finding their niche together. I like how at the end she became his orchid. But I kept thinking the entire time, "AAAAGH, you're covered in pee and haven't showered in at least three days!" Rottentomatoes calls this "a romantic comedy with a kinky twist." I think it's a little bit more than a kinky twist. The whole S&M thing was something I had to kind of get over in order to really watch the movie. Much of it I spent cringing awkwardly, but it's odd how it managed to make this actually a romance, and actually seem sweet. Start disagreeing with me anytime, I don't mind. :) Here she is becoming his orchid:

Gathered thoughts

The poor pinky. I don't know about viola and violin, but on cello especially it takes a rougher beating than the other four fingers. Yesterday, after having not played in ages, I foolishly jumped back in headfirst, and ended up with a huge burst blister. It was all red, and painful beyond where the blister was, just to touch. Today, Dad asked me to play some. I was like, "My pinky hurts." He reminded me that I played through much worse with the upright jazz bass, so I agreed. I got through about fifteen measures and had to stop. It seems that blisters from plucking on a bass's arco strings (as contrasted with jazz strings, which are softer and designed for more projection when plucked) are much easier to bear than a blister on the left hand pressing down on the string, even if they're not as bad technically. I was sweating and shaking from the effort of pushing down on the string with it, and had to stop, as I was getting blister juice all over my strings and fingerboard. Deeelicious.

I don't know about you, but a question that has plagued me is, where is/are the seed(s) in a banana? Are they those little black specks throughout the middle? Is it that one long black thing in the base? Well, today Wikipedia told me: Although the wild species have fruits with numerous large, hard seeds, virtually all culinary bananas have seedless fruits. There you have it! No seeds!

With amusement, Ben K, you asked if it was I and not Dad who rated Beauty and the Beast five stars. It occurs to me now that you were thinking of Disney's Beauty and the Beast, when what I rated five stars was Jean Cocteau's 1946 Beauty and the Beast. I feel so unashamed.

I see that Ben and Jaime have Equilibrium in their queue. Just remember, I really liked this movie for the fight scenes. Wait wait wait. You liked Underworld. If you can appreciate Underworld for what it is, then you can appreciate Equilibrium for what it is.

I hate hate hate the 100MB limit on videos with youtube and now blogger. I don't have any video editing thing, so I can't chop things down to fit and publish them. Jaime, you posted that long video of the dance with the sticks (lol, I think of Bride and Prejudice here) in the Indian community get-together thing. That was pretty long. How'd you do that? I have a little measly one minute or less video that I can't post.

Well, it's midnight, and tonight I'll go to bed early. Oh, and good news: I'm allowed to move into my residence on Monday (instead of Wednesday) so there'll be no trouble with transportation or anything! Hurrah! This makes me endlessly happy.

Unnecessary Revealing Photo

I am foolish. First, I always start out cutting tile thinking, "Oh, I'm wearing my glasses, do I really need the safety glasses?" Yes. Inevitably, a little chink (not the racial slur. That is a racial slur, right? I'm not very good with my racial slurs vocabulary, but I think it might be. Okay, UrbanDictionary.com says it is.) flies into my eye, and I keep going trying to finish the cut on the tile, but I can't really see properly, and my hands are right there guiding it next to the blade, and I'm going aaaaaugh. So then I put the safety glasses on, but the next day starts out the same. That, my friends, is foolish. There's another reason why I'm foolish, but I can't remember.

No matter how many times I indicate "Not Interested" on Netflix, they will insist on presenting me with Winnie the Pooh, Baby Einstein, stand-up comedy, and live concerts recorded. What ever made them think I would want any of that? The stand up comedy--maaaaaaaybe, if I were really bored. Maybe. Maybe. (These maybes are meant to sound very doubtful.)

Wrote the residence office today to beg them to let me go into residence a couple of days early. Returning students aren't supposed to come until the fifth, but Dad's bringing me the second and leaving the third. However, I have all of that stuff to take from the off campus house to my dorm room, so if I wait until I'm supposed to, I'm not going to have any way of lugging my junk there. True, the house is close, but it's not that close. I have my big mini fridge, microwave, and boxes full of books, not to mention all the other stuff that's less heavy sounding. The dorm will already be open for the first years who arrive early, so I'm hoping that my email will touch their hearts and they'll say okay. Really hoping. They tend to be a little strict about that kind of thing.

You may wonder, "Mandy, why don't you just drive the Jeep from the off campus house to your dorm?" Good question! I'm not taking my Jeep with me this year. People ask for rides to places I'm not going, want to use it as their own personal pot-smoking den in winter for their friends, spill bong water everywhere, it's just not a good scene. So! I'll just have Dad drop me off, and take the bus back for Christmas vacation. I'm certain you really wanted to know all that of that. :-P

Ew, I think I just accidentally ate some tile. :-<

Well, I finally watched American Psycho. (I had all this stuff about it written, but somehow as it got published there was an error with the HTML, and it was all lost. I don't remember at all what I said. But here is where it picks up again): I love how aware he was of the insanity of his actions, and how obvious what he was doing was. And the business card thing! Fabulous. But in the end, it felt pretty pointless. Pointless, just like this picture. Wow. Too many bumps!!

I just had a weird memory of cigarette smoke, to the extent where I almost thought I was really smelling it. I think that means it's time for bed.

Poll time!

I'm getting a pair of these Crocs, but I'm having difficulty picking between the peacock blue and the ruby red. Tell me what you think!

Well, it looks like Dad's tv has finally broken. The picture's wonky. It looks pinched in the middle and splayed out to the left and right, like a corset was put on the picture sideways. At the bottom the greens seem to be separating a bit, and at the top the blues seem to be separating a bit. The only properly mixed color is in the center of the screen.

I'm about to find out what Netflix's instant watching thing is like with Black Beauty. I have to watch it on Internet Explorer or something. I feel unfaithful and dirty going back to that blue "e." Well, movie's over. I watched Word Wars, and it was ...sad, actually. I didn't particularly like anyone. I almost liked one guy, but that almost is stretched pretty thin. Don't ever let me become obsessed with Scrabble.

I cannot believe that there is really a movie called Octopussy, and that it is a Bond film. Wow.

To: Jaime

Happy birthday! I don't know how old you are. Let's go find out in my convenient list of birthdays.... Hmm, the year is conspicuously absent. I'm going to guess you're turning thirty.

To my awesome sister, who laughs at my unfunniness, is nicer than anyone should have to suffer through being (does that make sense to only me? It's a compliment), and the best blogger of us all.

Happy thirtieth!! Hope you're not offended that I'm publishing (what I think is) your age. :-P

Mandy's Art Studio: VI

Lilies. I detest this first one.

Brief

I dare to dislike the musical Oliver! that plucky, sweet kid is so annoying.

Netflix's Watch Instantly feature is going to save my life this year. Free movies!! Thanks, Dad, for having such an expensive Netflix account. The selection is a bit sparse, though.

Jaime, if we can't have creative punctuation in our lives, what else have we got? I never bother myself with deliberations over whether my comma is really in the right place or not. If I want it there, then by golly, that's where it belongs. We should consider beginning a non-profit group called The Punctuation's Liberation Front. Hehe:

Brian: Excuse me. Are you the Judean People's Front?
Reg: Fuck off! We're the People's Front of Judea

One star for red zinger tea

Further proof that there is a God: Both of my flights were completely on time yesterday, despite massive reroutings and delays everywhere around me. Quick, where can I get re-baptized??? Hmm, not funny.

Why are rugs so amazingly expensive? It's insane.

While on the plane yesterday, I had to open the lavatory door for six people who couldn't figure out how to do it (I was in the very rear, sitting right across from it). Everyone handled their embarrassment pretty well, and one of the little old guys I helped was sooo sweet. But that seems like a pretty high number for one plane ride to not be able to open the door.

Well, go ahead and call me a sentimental fool, but for the first time I can remember, Dad has a picture of the two of us on his desktop. I am on his desktop. That actually means a lot to me; is that sad?

Today, I had some fruit on the bottom soy yogurt that Jennie left behind. It wasn't bad, though it did have a rather outrageous amount of calories. And right now, my first time trying red zinger tea. ...after it cools down enough.

Speaking of cooling down, Dad turned down the temperature of the hot water in the basement last night, but he did it in the dark, so he couldn't see that he turned it down to Not Even Tepid. I was prepared to forego my bath this morning, but luckily Dad came home for his goof-off time and put everything to rights with the water heater(sort of; it's still a little cold).

Red zinger just does not smell good. I'm having difficulty steeling myself to drink it.

Be my Netflix friend! (ahem, Brad). And Ben K, we're only 68% similar, not the 80something% you said.

Right now, I'm reading The Unbearable Lightness of Being, by Milan Kundera. I stole it from Ben's bookshelf, and he says he didn't even finish it, because he didn't like it. Ooh, someone should start a website for books sort of like the friends section of Netflix, where you say what you're reading, and can rate past books, and have friends and compare your taste. Brilliant. Anyways, I was just thinking that, unsurprisingly, I have rather different taste in books than Ben, and so far I really like this. Well-written modern fiction is not often something that I read, so this is new territory for me. I typically think of a piece of fiction as being plot with philosophical ideas laced throughout it. The Unbearable Lightness of Being, though, seems like a book about philosophical ideas with occasional snatches of story illustrating them. It's weird. And I don't think I like that, but what I do like is the array of flawed characters. In the third chapter, one of the main characters stands around wondering if he's in love or not. Actually, let me just make this an excerpt:

Now he was standing at the window trying to call that moment to account. What could it have been if not love declaring itself to him?

But was it love? ... Was it simply the hysteria of a man who, aware deep down of his ineptitude for love, felt the self-deluding need to simulate it? His unconscious was so cowardly that the best partner it could choose for its little comedy was this miserable provincial waitress with practically no chance at all to enter his life!

Looking out over the courtyard at the dirty walls, he realized he had no idea whether it was hysteria or love.

And he was distressed that in a situation where a real man would instantly have known how to act, he was vacillating and therefore depriving the most beutiful moments he had ever experienced ... of their meaning.

He remained annoyed with himself until he realized that not knowing what he wanted was actually quite natural.

I just thought that nicely captured what is, for me, a very real sensation. Red zinger tea is disgusting. Uch!!

Airport Ramblings

Well, this is an airport post, except without actually posting, since I can’t seem to connect to the wireless. Today is a spectacular day for weather, just not so much for flying. The air was so hot and muggy and relatively clear, until just before I left it clouded over and the wind started tearing down the street, and a light rain started falling. Sitting in the airport right now, though, there’s lightning and heavy rain, so I hope my flight isn’t cancelled. The rain is sliding so constantly down the windows that I can’t see outside at all.

Likelihood of major delay: high.

Last week, I went meteor watching with Michelle (Ellinger), Jeff, and Andy. We ended up at the farm, since we hadn’t planned where to go. We were also an hour early, since the really good stuff was supposed to begin at two in the morning. I saw two good ones, though.

After watching The Hot Fuzz (again), I want to move to Britain and become a cop. :) What an amazing plan!

During the weekdays for lunch, nearly every day, Julie and I have had PB&J and tea, and today we did afternoon tea properly. We had grand plans to make our own tea snack-y things and such, but of course that didn’t happen. So today we bought a blueberry scone and piece of lemon cake from Starbucks (better than nothing), Julie made a pot of rose tea, and we sat down to drink, eat, and chat. That’s about where the story ends, nothing amazing happens or anything. But it was nice.

Right now, some sketch airport guy is standing behind me peering over my shoulder at my screen. Sketch. I wonder if he’s looking for a confession of terrorist activity on my Word file. That’s where I’d write it, of course.

Today, thanks to Julie’s kind financial backing (I’d left my purse at home) I got one t-shirt with Grumpy Bear (Care Bears) on it, and another covered with little Woodstocks from Charlie Brown on it. Sooo cool.

I’m trying to think of useful things for tiny dorm rooms that I might not have for next year, and I’m drawing a blank. So, everyone think of really useful things that I might not have thought of. Particularly creative storage devices. Right now, an area rug is my most desired thing. Maybe a clip-on lamp/ fan. Ah-ha, some curtains would be nice, too.

Well, the wireless miraculously started working, and it appears has miraculously stopped again, so the moment it comes back up I’m going to publish this. If it does come back up.

Until then, I’ll continue rambling. Okay, the point of me going back on campus is to have a social life and actually experience university life. So, here are a couple of resolutions I’ve made to try and accomplish that.

1. Go to yoga (Obviously, there will be people there)
2. Audition for chamber ensemble
3. Introduce myself to floormates, and learn their names
4. Leave my door open whenever I’m in my room (with some obvious exceptions)
5. additional suggestions?

Planes are circling in the air waiting for an opportunity to land, and several have been diverted to Cincinnati to refuel and then fly back to Columbus. I seriously hope that isn’t happening with my flight.

Well, the wireless has come back, so I'm going to take this opportunity to post.


Oh my goodness, I think my plane might have just pulled up to the gate! Please please let it be mine!!

babble babble

Whew, I just read Jaime's latest entry, and her vehemence against the world has left me breathless.

As a shameless non-handwasher, I feel somewhat cowed by her ferocity. But at least I am not that brief with water hand washer. I stick up for the way I feel and walk boldly out without a glance at the sinks. Unless I touch something I feel is questionable. Then I bust out the soap, and lots of comfortably warm water so I can stand there and have a good scrub. But if I just go to the bathroom--pfft. Is everyone horrified? Fabulous.

Sometimes I actually want to check how I look in the mirror, but I'd be embarrassed to stand there looking at myself, so I'll conceal my true purpose by washing my hands, giving me an excuse to stand for a prolonged period in front of the mirror. How sad.

I think most of you know that for a year or so I kept a blog online but told very few people about it. Ben was incensed that he didn't know about it, and went on a crazed hunt attempting to find it. Well, tonight I've deleted it. It was on livejournal, and I've decided that I really don't like that site. They want you to pay for some features and really make me not like them in the process.

I had a dream last night that someone who didn't know me was reading this, and talked about how he liked it. But he was talking in text on the computer. Weird. This is like that episode of Buffy where that one demon is living in the internet and making all the sad computer nerds do his bidding, and Willow falls in love with him. It's only like that, though, because of the way the guy's thoughts were appearing in text on the computer. Telekinesis typing!!

Ben was playing the demo for BioShock, and it looked really good. And weird. Fun premise, though. Underwater city where things have gone badly wrong. What a nightmare. Undoubtedly I'll have bad dreams about this tonight.

Speaking of which, I'm going to bed.

Pictorial Bar Harbor.

Oh. My. Goodness. Am I losing my ability to nap? I lie down, and can get into a kind of stupor, but true sleep is elusive. Maybe I'm just reaaaaally well rested.

Okay, I never covered the trip to Bar Harbor. Here it is pictorially.

Pavel doesn't feel like walking any more. He really doesn't feel like walking.

Cute path.

Pavel drains his second huge glass of chocolate milk.

Absolutely everyone is grimacing.

Jennie attempts to catch the elusive Pavel in a photo. Check out those crazy moves of his.

Alex, Yelena, and Andrei run around like mad in the gazebo. Pretty views behind.

Boats!

Well, I'm glad that I've gotten this off my chest. It was weighing heavily on me that I hadn't posted about this.

In other news, I've been writing professors to see if I can help them with their research this year. It seems promising so far, though certainly no guarantees.

I updated my Facebook profile picture. Thrilling. :-P I weigh the most that I have since freshman year of high school, oy.

Oh, here we go. I have become an annoying orderer, and it was completely accidental. I didn't realize it until the guy at Starbucks was calling out the drink as he was setting it out, "Tall, non-fat Cinnamon Dolce Latte, no sugar or whipped cream." Say that out loud, and it sounds a lot longer. I was embarrassed as I came forward to claim my picky beverage. I'm like one of those people that gets sniped from over 500 ft away on CSI: Miami, because of my consumeristic life. So that wasn't exactly why they were getting shot, but it could as easily have been that on the show.

And now it's time for a nap!

Movie post

I'm embracing my supershort hair. It takes like two seconds to blow dry, and instead of having to put it back in a ponytail when I want to wash my face, I can just run my wet hands through it a couple of times and it stays all slicked back! Awesome.

Pet peeve: People on Facebook who list their status so that it doesn't make a sensible sentence on purpose. Example: Mandy is tonight= mischief, Mandy is I need a job!, Mandy is Ozzfest was amazing. It's not cool, original, or breaking out of the mold at all; it just makes it look like they're stupid to form a sentence.

Now, to the real point of this entry: Stardust was surprisingly awesome. I guess I didn't really know what to expect going in, but it wasn't this. It didn't take itself too seriously, and had some good laughs. There's a pretty good chance, though (definitely), that my delight in this movie is aided by my love and easy acceptance of fantasy. Things that people might cringe at, it doesn't even occur to me to think odd. But by all means, see this movie, and tell me what you think. I think it deserves more than the 73% that rottentomatoes gives it. If it weren't a compilation thing, I'd give Stardust an 85% fo sho. Oh, and I can't stand Claire Danes, but this movie made me almost like her. And I love this guy's coat.

I might've spoken about this before, but I don't remember. Equilibrium. It seems like a very under appreciated and noticed movie. I mean, sure, it doesn't have anything too original in it. Same old dystopia, 1984/Brave New World schpiel. But! The fight scenes, my friends, the fight scenes. Watching Christian Bale pistol-whip and gunsword ("gun kata") fight guys was pretttty awesome. And I also really liked the music used throughout it. So, ye lovers of katanas and gun fights, I'd give this a look-see.

Brad mentioned suffering from the loud laugher at movies, a fate I'm sure we've all shared occasionally. I myself sometimes let out the obnoxiously loud guffaw, but I do make an effort to keep myself to myself. However, while I was watching Stardust, a more peculiar and obnoxious fate befell me: the loud clapper. I was watching the movie, and all of a sudden, BAM!! this guy lets out two or three of the loudest, most startling claps I've ever heard, while cackling with glee. At first I thought maybe he was special or something, you know, but then I realized, clearly this was a guy who had read the book and just couldn't keep his excitement to himself. He kept doing this clapping thing periodically throughout the movie, and it was as unpleasant a surprise every time as it was the first time.

Rose tea. ?!

People should really consider making underwear and bras more affordable. Sure, charge more for the lacy ones or whatever, but basic cotton? It's like they want to make sexy really expensive. But why can't I have affordable little cotton underthings? Such serious, important thoughts weigh me down.

Okay, character combination. Miss Crawford - wanting Tom Bertram to die + young Jane Eyre = Me.

In a shocking turn of events, I have discovered that I like Rose tea. It's always sounded so gross. Rose tea. I don't even like rose scented anything, so I really couldn't imagine this tasting good. But what can I say, if Julie hadn't been there, I would have drunk the entire pot by myself. Really sad: I just had to look up the conditional perfect for "drink," to make certain I was getting it right. Anyways, before you know it, I'll be liking English Breakfast (which I've never tried, just 'cause there have always been other things around I preferred). But that's a golden standard, it must be good, right? Am I an old lady if I want to put tea bags in my dresser drawers to make my clothes smell nice? Yes, I think that does age me about fifty years automatically.

I don't know why I didn't remember having already blogged The Simpsons and Hairspray. I thought I wrote it and it was just sitting around as an unpublished draft. So, my bad.

hair!

So, I got my hair cut. And I dyed it. And I really don't know what to think. I'm either a rock star or a fifty year old housewife. I attempted to dye it a really lovely shade of blonde ("lightest golden brown"). However, I have rarely (read: never) tried to lighten my hair color, and instead of ending up as a lightest golden blonde, I am instead some sort of a redhead. Photos: pre hair dye, post hair dye

Happy five year anniversary, Ben and Julie!! Tonight, I'll be babysitting the wee one while they go out for a romantic dinner and think anxiously about whether or not the other will like their present. I believe that this year is the wood anniversary. I know what each of them is getting, and so far (fingers crossed) I haven't given either present away! I've given away at least two presents by a slip of the tongue or plain old laziness.

...hours later, and I'm continuing this entry while doing the babysitting...

I saw Dreamgirls ages ago, and was really disappointed. The music was boring, the plot took forever and a day to take off (and when it did it was not engaging), and when they were singing it was awkward. I would take fabulously out there choreographed song and dance numbers of this any day. And who in their right mind let Jamie Foxx sing? Ironically, he's a music major and released his own album. Ah, but he was studying classical piano. There you go.

In a similar vein, I saw Hairpsray last week, and I really enjoyed it. I've never seen the original, so I don't know what was left out, and what was added, but it was really fun, and as is the case with all good musicals, I left it wanting real life to have song and dance numbers. Kenny and I sang at the top of our lungs all the way home. John Travolta in a fat suit was completely unnecessary. Allison Janney's character was awesome and unappreciated, I think.

I also saw The Simpsons. It was good, funny. Worth seeing.

Well, I've run out of things to say, so up this goes.

Thank you notes

are obsolete. If someone sent me a present, and they weren't with me, or there were no phones or email, maybe then I'd send a thank you note. But honestly, if the person's with me when I open it, I'll thank them then in person. If they're not, I would (hypothetically) call them to say hi and, btw, thanks for the awesome gift, I'm using it as we speak. I've never seen much good from thank you notes. They cost money to buy and send, they clutter up the house of the person they were sent to, the messages inside are always somewhat awkward as you attempt to put in words the appreciation that you may or may not actually feel, and then they're just going to be taking up space in a land fill, since who would keep a thank you note.

And that, my friends, is why you'll never get a thank you note from me.

I'm in Ohio right now, and I appear to have arrived the week that hell came to earth, because it is so hot. I'm in the middle of Jane Eyre and I love it; it's a total page turner. As far as personality, I completely identified with Jane Eyre, until she became selfless and patient. So I guess the child Jane Eyre. How sad that I most identify with a ten year old character. Did I mention that I got an adorable little old hardback of the book in the Calais Bookstore? I love it.

I've been partially writing a lot of blog entries lately, and not publishing them. I will summarize one of them, though: I saw the movie Brad recommended, The Host, with Ben K, and I loved it. It was hilarious and sweet and worth seeing, with some sad bits. I hate sad bits.

Other movie watching of note: I saw The Simpsons last night, and Hairspray the night before. Watching a musical with someone who's not necessarily a musical fan is a terrible thing. You keep warning them beforehand, "This is a musical, you know, they're going to be breaking out into song and dance and there will be no expression of remorse on their faces. Do you still want to see it?" But still, I feel a little self-conscious watching a musical with someone who's not a musical lover. A little embarrassed. Nevertheless, I persevered, and managed to love Hairspray. I'm not familiar with the broadway version, so I couldn't critique how things were changed, what songs were cut and what were kept, or anything. But for anyone who can stand a song and dance, I'd go see it. Afterwards I felt like hte world was an overwhelmingly positive place, and I wanted to go around singing and dancing spontaneously with people I don't know. This if, of course, a common side effect of musicals, for people who enjoy them. So I mean not Brad. And The Simpsons. Good movie. I liked it. That's about it about The Simpsons. I don't know if you'd consider this a spoiler or not, but, if you care a lot about this, beware:

***Spoiler for Simpsons***





This so doesn't count as a spoiler. Better to be cautious, though. At the end, Maggie says a word, and honestly, that was hte biggest letdown ever. I can't believe they did that. Some good laughs throughout it, though.

And that, my friends, is the end of this brief bit of blogging. There are chunks of cinnamon in the bottom of my chai, and that is gross. Time to go read Jane Eyre.