A Day in the Life

the maltese honeycrisp apple

So, you like sweets, do you? I know a place that's sweeter than sweetness itself. In this sweet place, earthly donuts are sour as poison -- you'd spit them out, you would! [pounds fist] I'm talking about my bag of honeycrisp apples, which was cruelly stolen between the hours of 9 a.m and 11 p.m today.

As Winston Churchhill once said, there is nothing worse than when someone who isn't from Washington state steals your honeycrisp apples, because they just can't appreciate them.

Today, his words rang true. I woke up forty minutes ago, craving an apple. I couldn't find the apple. I walked purposefully over to my roommate's room, and I was like, "'Fess up!" And then she was all, "Is this about the apples?"

Honestly, it's like, "oh, sorry, lawyer girl, I didn't realize I was interrupting the bar exam!"

Where do these people come from, anyway?
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an open letters to the powers that be: aka angela and adam

Dear Angela and Adam,

Where do I even begin? How do I explain the mysterious chain of events that placed me at the barn instead of the place that claimed and probably succeeded in being hotter than july?

It is impossible to explain myself without alluding to Trader Joe's, Philly's 30th Street station, a missed phone call, and a thick biography on the life of FDR: called "No Ordinary Time" after a speech Eleanor made to the Democratic convention in 1940.

It's a story that you're probably not interested in, because there are no fast car chases or frontal nudity. It's really more like 'the babysitter's club movie' in that i'm as much a has-been as rachel leigh cook. but when i finally reached home after walking the distance between two train stations, loaded down with books and groceries, I collapsed and, stupidly, waited to be awoken by a friend who never called. When I woke up at 1130 with a sore back and snatches of a dream involving the cast of the west wing rejecting me, i was relieved. the cast of the west wing had never met me in real life! i still had a chance! but also, i was sad inside. sad at my own stupidity for not making sure i made it to the party of the particular friday.

so, when i woke up this morning (this time it was a dream involving my walking and walking and never making it to 30th street), i decided that i had two choices: I could wait for one of you to say to me, 'hey, did you like the party?' and respond "yeah.....as long as there are no follow-up questions, it was great!' or i give the semblance of being sorry. and, as angela has long since called me out, i decided to go with the latter.

i know that this email doesn't answer alot of questions. when am i going to be launching my new political blog? why did i make an impulse purchase of a tin of cat-shaped cookies at trader joe's? am i ever going to get the internship of my dreams?

Be patient. That will have to wait for other posts.
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Happy one year anniversary from when I posted last!

I'm turning 21 in 90 minutes. Hopefully I can finish my three papers before then.
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don't you love it when someone lends you a pencil?
and then she leaves the room without asking for it back?

and then you realize that it's as good as yours because you'll probably never see her again in your life because you both were taking the same fucking econ final whose material you kinda learned in two days after going to about half the classes but are feeling strangely good about because you're taking it pass/fail and probably got the 45% you were aiming for?
and that you're leaving for a whole month in about three hours?

goodbye swat, hello new pencil. i'm audi.


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north window

so i always look into the home next door when at my computer -- which faces a window -- and i would always see what i thought was the back of an old man's head, staring, always staring, at a darkened television screen. who is this man? i would ask myself. what is it he thinks he sees? and it would inspire me.

i now realize, on closer inspection, that it is what appears to be some kind of commemorative plate in front of a toaster oven.

i salute you, old man.

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just don't laugh

phallic joke, homophobic joke, remember-back-in-high-school-when-you-could-count-the-number-of-times-you-had-been-drunk?-haha-well-is-infinity-a-number?-i-couldn't-tell-you,-my-brain-is-so-riddled-with-beer-and-bong-resin joke.

i will not write off my discomfort as some inherent difference in the sexes. it came from being the only person in the group not trying to live up to some standard of masculinity at the expense of others. the sad thing is, everyone is capable with acting in line with their beliefs but some people choose to contribute to a threatening atmosphere.

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hmmmmmm....

-huge chunks of plaster fell from my ceiling. into my unpacked suitcase containing all my clothes.

-assassins is starting up again. do i dare?

(muses)

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