Wednesday, April 29, 2009

Man in mask.

4 hours taming a shrew. Well, reading it. Outloud. Alone. In my office. Rock bottom? Yes. I became so accustomed to the absurdity that I not only read aloud, but started talking to myself. As though in a movie. However in a movie, we, the viewers, feel comfortable with the character addressing himself, the actor knowing the camera is rolling. But when the footage of my soliloquy, caught on hidden camera, reaches the survellaince moniters, two men in uniforms will turn to each other, shake their heads in knowing despair and say "we've lost another one to Spring term."

Saturday, April 25, 2009

So fresh and so clean. Clean?

Last night I slept at Grandma Jan's house. It doesn't smell of a grandparent's home, as many grandparents' homes do. Instead it's a fresh and inviting space, redone frequently. Always new additions, keeping with the times. But despite the fung-shway(phonetic) and color changes, some crucial aspects of the home remain constant. There is always aquafresh toothpaste in the basement bathroom. I doubt they still make aquafresh. I don't know that I've ever seen anyone buy aquafresh, and it's been at least fifteen years since the aquafresh ad has run on TV. It would seem that the blue tube in the drawer is old and past it's prime. So imagine my surprise when my nightly brush was one of rejuvination, spice and all around euphoria. Aquafresh is like cheese or wine, better with age. I may build a cellar and store the tubes, dating the boxes, and pulling out the choicest selections when an event calls for extremely delicious breath.

Monday, April 20, 2009


I should write a blog but Lisa stepped into the future on the Simpsons and it's funny and I think I'd rather watch that because I finished finals and can do whatever the beans I want including writing run-on sentences.

Friday, April 10, 2009

Argilla Road Millionares

If we're sitting in a board meeting, in a board room, you and I, (that tie looks great on you), I'll pull out a chart and set it on a stand. There will be a line, red probably, starting from  the bottom left and  increasing dramatically toward the right top corner. A few dips here and there, but an overall exponential reading. Horizontally, along the bottom will read "time until semester's end," starting at 4 months and ending at 1 day. Along the left (vertically) will read "zit count"', "cadburry eggs consumed", and "tears shed." You and everyone else sitting at the monstrous board room table, will nod, suddenly understanding why Stephen has  had to ask at least once a day "Are you ok?" When I snap "Yes I'm fine!" while grabbing a tissue and shoving 4 eggs into my mouth, he knows to do one of two things; 1. Find a youtube clip of someone else falling down or crashing a bike or being inappropriate,  2. Feed me french fries. Both methods are highly effective, and undoubtedly the reason we've lasted as long as we have. I feel like it was the same routine when I was three, but instead I was pacified with Sesame Street and microwaved hotdogs with cheese. Carey (Mother Dear) would poke a fork into the tube of pig flesh to prevent exploding. A shame, because an exploding hot dog would  be absolutely radical. Like coke in the freezer but hotter and more dead animally. 

Wednesday, April 8, 2009


The morn was all abuzz with the news of 20 Americans hostage at sea, their ship commandeered by pirates. Pirates. Piracy is still a career option? I had suspicions about those academic counselors, but know I can say with full confidence that they are not to be trusted. Who withholds information like that? If not so close to graduation, I would trade in the literature for swashbuckling. How long have I longed for the life of scurvy and loose women...

Thursday, April 2, 2009

If the sun don’t come you get a tan from standing in the English rain

I'm in a wretched mood for no reason at all. And I've spent the last 3 hours getting to the root of this rather pressing issue. My conclusion thus far is as follows: Today was a fabulous day. My classes were spectacular. Even my professor, who usually causes my blood to boil and ears to ring, was nothing short of cordial and engaging. So my annoyance missed the outlet that has become routine every Tuesday and Thursday, and as a result has been building like water against a Dutch water gate thingy all day. What is usually a healthy despise for one person has escalated into complete hatred for the Universe in remarkable time. What is to be don? Television. It's the safest solution. No feelings hurt by my snide, bitter remarks directed at the talking heads. I don't think that cool-whip sandwiched between 2 chocolate-chip cookies would be delicious, contrary to the suggestion of the ad I just watched. But because advertising=brainwashing in its most sadistic form, the already obese and economically suffering American population will hop into their earth slaughtering vehicles and drive to the fascist Super Hyper XXX Walmart, where they will buy their carcinogens and transfat in bulk. It makes me so mad. I feel so much better.