Another Reason To Be Here

Either Xanga is being funky or Dakota the Computer hates Xanga, but I can't get to the site right so I'm staying here. The day was going badly, lots of stairs to climb, papers to unjam, posters to hang up... until I walked by Coles. From then on, there were just friends abounding. I would bump into one here and ditch them when I saw one somewhere else (ok, so I'm not loyal, but I'm friendly, plus, if you were with smelly Anthony and Mac, you'd ditch them, too), and then on the way back to faraway ol' Brunswick, saw lovely Jenny's lovely purple pillow and three lovely faces. My day rocks so much better than your day. I dare you to outdo me.

I'm No Edward

The point of scissors is that they’re easier to manage and safer than knives. So you’d think a junior in college would be smart enough not to cut their finger with a pair of scissors. Well, then, you’d be wrong. It happens, ok?

Saving Face

For those of you who don't know, the Band Man is my advisor this year. More of a figurehead title than anything, but he does get to sign my course registration forms. Today, I needed to see him about some forms and ended up interrupting his pre-major advising session with his little flock of freshmen. I thought it'd only take a quick second and asked him to sign my add/drop form. After finding out that I wanted to sign on for a full five-course load, however, he waivered a bit.

Moi: It's ok. I’ve done it before. I promise I can handle it. I even took five courses while taking your class two semesters ago.

Band Man: So that’s why you sucked so bad.

Come on, Band Man, in front of the freshmen?

Alien Nation

Who of us, upon seeing piles of cardboard boxes, amidst packing for school, hasn't had the urge to pick up one of the boxes, put it over our heads, and pretend to be space creatures, grunting and whirring, as we stumble all over the house?

Humongous Hick Hell Hole

Those familiar with 4-H fairs (that would be Dwighters, who doesn't know about this place, and Lenny, because she has NH roots), should know that they smell awful. I, being one formerly unfamiliar with 4-H fairs, did not anticipate the foul smells that fancied the full length of the fairground. No freshly baked apple pie could triumph over the animal odor because apparently, at the fair we visited, there were no pies. No jams. No produce. Nothing. The pie contest(s?) weren't until tomorrow- day two of a weekend full of smelly animals and smellier kids. I suppose in some cultures, people voluntarily spend an entire weekend doing this. Though maybe not adults, as there was certainly a dearth of authority figures on the fairgrounds, which could explain the poor hygiene among participants, livestock and human. There were lots of little 4-feeteres running around with STAFF t-shirts. Worse yet, they put live alpacas on display in the fairgrounds without regards for the well being of spectators. What if one was to be allergic to llama-type animals? And the eyes begin to water? Where is the humanity? There were no warning signs posted, just a vast wasteland of grossly obese (in both sense of the word) animals and their dangerous allergen-packed dander. I smell a law-suit, 4-H. No wait, that was just a load of crap.

ps. Apologies for the near profane words of this entry. In supporting my local llama, I've gone a little loco myself, what with the stinging eyes and irritate nose, my head is a bit out of it and my language loose.

And Dime

I got to spend all the nickels and pennies in my wallet today. Now, there's only an exclusive crowd of useful coins hanging around my wallet.

In My Father's Office

I'm updating mostly to spite Mon. I don't have much to say. Not quite sure what I'm spiting either. But here I go again, updating.

I'm at Father's office, mainly because my Professor's office was locked and I needed a photocopier. You see, I don't have an office of my own. I love being at his offices. For one thing, there's always a copier. And it's probably the closest I'll ever get to a Red Sox Hall of Fame player. (He's two offices down. Not a Hall of Fame player, it's the Red Sox Hall of Fame, but hey, I'll take what I can get.) And Father has a great stock of Wendy's croutons here, which I enjoy. And the long hallways in this former mill makes me want to do cartwheels all along its wooden floors. Mostly I like seeing a different world, one that Father's so familiar with but I only know peripherally. Well, that's not entirely true. I like his supply of gummy bears, too. I once held them hostage, threatening to eat one every thirty seconds until we left. It was a win-win situation for all involved. Even the dead bears.

True to the Treys

Three Games I Love:
1. Poker. Deuces wild. Because I like winning over strategies.
2. Baseball. And its constant excitement. Constant reminders that nothing is ever for sure.
3. Boggle. This love can't be cheapened by words for short explanations.

Three Games I Hate:
1. Duck
2. Duck
3. Goose.

Three Strong Ties to Inanimate Objects:
1. My hulking big watch.
2. Dakota the Computer.
3. My security pillow.

You're A Dead Man, Charlie Brown

Here's myself opening up my vulnerabilities to you, my achilles' heel, my foible: When playing Poker (not Hold'em, stuff like Deuces Wild, etc.), no matter how senseless it may seem, if I see an ace and an eight together in a hand, I'll keep them both. I'm a sucker for aces and eights.

The Laminated List

I believe that was a Friends reference. Or HSX. But I haven't paid HSX any mind in a year. So much for trying to make my grandfather proud and building cultural bridges and crap. So much for small liberal arts colleges and their unknown charm. This is how it all went down:

Grandfather (reading Chinese newspaper, calls me over): It says here that Harvard and what's this school (translanting Chinese translations back into English) Princeton are the top two schools in America. And Duke. Yale. Standford. Now where's Duke?

Moi: I think it's in North Carolina oh most reverent grandpapa*.

*Salutation may or may not have been said during actual conversation.

Grandfather: That's very good.

Moi: (thinking: I could either end this conversation right here, or try to keep it going and be a good kid, like mentioning how Bowdoin ranks...) See, they have two rankings. These are for the big schools, like Harvard. They also have a list for small colleges, and my school came in sixth.

Grandfather: (blank stare)

Moi: My school is the sixth best this year, compared to other small schools.

Grandfather: (look unimpressed. slightly embarassed by my small school affiliations resumes reading paper.)

Correction

I have eight mosquito bites on ten toes. Not five.

Mathematical Misery

Audio Blogs: Audio Awesome

Self-Absorbtion One, Two, Three

By the by, the definitions to the words absorption and absorbtion are a little too close for comfort.
Since my life is not exciting enough to warrant two blogs (Xanga and Blogger), especially since it's often not exciting enough to warrant one, I'll post here some fascinating facts about myself in triplets. Because triplets are even more fun than twins.

Three Parts of My Heritage:
1. Sri Lankan
2. Taiwanese.
3. Three-seventh Scottish.

Three Things That Troubled Me In My Nightmare Last Night:
1. Repeated tardiness to class. (Band Man's at that!)
2. Missing the Puma sale.
3. Wearing a hideous and random denim jacket with faux shearling edges.

Three Reasons I Prefer Blogger:
1. Dude. Audioblogs.
2. They're nice to me here. None of the constant nagging for using a freebie from Xanga.
3. A sucker for google. I really am.

The Weatherman Says Blue Skies

When people visit, I'd like to be prepared. Hors D'oeuvres on the table, music playing, and looking gorgeous (ok, that last part doesn't need work). So no one knows about this place yet, until I rack up a few more entries. And right now, this little lonely corner is just quiet. Myself talking to myself. Like the crazies do. But soon, people will be lining up behind computers for their turn to visit this site. And everyone will be saying, "So I says to Mabel, I says, have you seen the new blog?"

Yuppies In Training

We are suburban sophisticates. So we have no careers, but we discuss Barak Obama and the financial future of the company that created Furbies. And even though we don't really drink coffee (as some of us react strongly to caffeine, cough, Lenny, cough) we like to frequent coffee shops we can't afford, or the local farm stand (albeit it ice cream farm stand.) You know you think we're cool. We do at least.

Testing, Testing, One Two Three

I don't know if I'm ditching Xanga. I don't like change. But I am a sucker for Google. So we'll see. I'll see you when I see you.