screaming: Rumor Has It - Adele
It cracked me up today when my Jewish best friend from high school texted me about how she had no idea this whole time that some Christians actually do put ashes on their forehead in honor of Ash Wednesday. I imagine it must have been a very puzzling morning for her. But happy Lenten season!
Personally, I've decided to take the time this year to redouble my efforts on being healthy. I'm giving up sweets--my roommate and floormates are all doing it and so we're holding each other accountable--which is tough enough, even though it's only been like, 24 hours. I ate massive amounts of Girl Scout cookies and Nutella in the days before (and then mistakenly went to kickboxing class right after one binge session...what a mistake...).
So without all that well, crap being in my system, I hope to be physically healthier, especially since I'm still loving going to the rec a few times every week to do zumba or ballet fit or turbokick. Or like today, with it being sixty degrees out, running two miles on the outdoor track was simply beautiful. The lacrosse boys practicing in the field were a plus, too. I catch myself flexing in the mirror now because all this working out actually has built up a wee bit of muscle, and having been the girl who never had muscle all her life, I'm absolutely thrilled.
Napping is happening more (and so is, uh, sleeping past econ...) as well. And then there's the mental health thing, where I'm trying stuff out like offering to help with petitioning for Amnesty International club and watching a lot of inspirational videos (the "We Are the World" video for Haiti efforts may or may not have made me cry) and even dressing up to go to class. Sometimes, it's worth it to put on makeup and feel pretty, eh? Monday, I actually got stopped by a girl on campus who blogs for College Fashionista, and she took a picture of my outfit! Not bad, eh?
With the unseasonably warm winter (my friend from Texas here thinks this is what all Midwest winters are like, and he doesn't understand why everyone thinks winters are such a big deal if this is all there is to it--oh naive fool you), thoughts of spring break (especially volunteering in Alabama!) and summer are on my mind. I still have no idea what the status is on my summer plans--I'm hoping to either intern for Fueled by Ramen or Design Bureau. The latter is probably more likely--I'm just about to hit my tenth web post, and the associate editor is starting to assign me stories for the actual print magazine. Which, to put this into perspective for non-journalism students, is like saying "We really really really like you."
At least, I think.
Last on my bit of mental health purge is boys--most specifically, Roger. I just cannot deal with this kid anymore. We talked so much last week, right? And so I just threw caution to the wind and brought up getting lunch, but our schedules didn't coincide enough to make it possible. And then this past weekend, he went home and then when he got back, we didn't talk at all until yesterday, which was when I'd figured he just didn't want to bother anymore if I kept being annoying and being like all let's hang outttt. But he started chatting it up again and so finally I asked if he wanted to do lunch sometime this week, and he led me on the biggest tangent ever known to the history of internet conversations.
So I say, screw this. This kid is too much work. If he's just messing with me, fine. Now I'll have better things to do. If he really does like me, oh well. He's too chicken and fickle to deal with. I deserve better.
To kick start this sort of new re-lease on life, the best news is that because a floormate is going home this weekend, I get to tag along and carpool and go see my family and home friends quite unexpectedly. And I can't wait :)
Thursday, February 23, 2012
Monday, February 20, 2012
kayak attack
screaming: Slave 4 U - Britney Spears
(Don't judge. It's catchy.)
Just wanted to write a quick post about how well this weekend topped off! Having gotten up at 2 PM today, I kind of thought it was just going to be a Sundaze kind of deal where I slogged through homework and pined for better days (aka, last night), but it ended up really awesomely!
My friend Cara, who was one of the girls I went out with last night, has been telling me about kayaking club here at Mizzou. It's not very big--she told me it was usually just a couple of guys who like kayaking and just showing the rest of the gang how to paddle a kayak around a pool, and so I thought I'd tag along with her today to see what it was like. I have to admit, I didn't think there was much more to kayaking than just, uh, you know, floating around, but it's freaking hard. Although, just to be clear, the shirtless outdoorsmen-esque boys there were pretty darn helpful/inspirational.
This is a YouTube video of what's called an eskimo roll--i.e., how to roll yourself up out of the water if you flip the kayak over. If you do it right, you don't even let go of your paddle in the process. Very intense. And very hard on the abs. Cara taught me how to do baby eskimo rolls using the side of the pool and her kayak (called a t-rescue), and I'm sure I was quite a sight, trying madly to flip over my kayak and looking like the girl from the Grudge with my hair streaming all over my face in the process.
Afterward, we spent some time at the pool, which, little did I know, is equipped with a hot tub, lazy river, whirlpool, steam room, and sauna. It was a very well-spent Sunday night. When I came home and spent a few hours organizing my cross-cultural journalism group's stuff, it was not even discouraging. Basically, the mentality going on was: if I can do a freaking t-rescue and flip my kayak over, I can most definitely pwn this project.
New motto. For sure.
(Don't judge. It's catchy.)
Just wanted to write a quick post about how well this weekend topped off! Having gotten up at 2 PM today, I kind of thought it was just going to be a Sundaze kind of deal where I slogged through homework and pined for better days (aka, last night), but it ended up really awesomely!
My friend Cara, who was one of the girls I went out with last night, has been telling me about kayaking club here at Mizzou. It's not very big--she told me it was usually just a couple of guys who like kayaking and just showing the rest of the gang how to paddle a kayak around a pool, and so I thought I'd tag along with her today to see what it was like. I have to admit, I didn't think there was much more to kayaking than just, uh, you know, floating around, but it's freaking hard. Although, just to be clear, the shirtless outdoorsmen-esque boys there were pretty darn helpful/inspirational.
This is a YouTube video of what's called an eskimo roll--i.e., how to roll yourself up out of the water if you flip the kayak over. If you do it right, you don't even let go of your paddle in the process. Very intense. And very hard on the abs. Cara taught me how to do baby eskimo rolls using the side of the pool and her kayak (called a t-rescue), and I'm sure I was quite a sight, trying madly to flip over my kayak and looking like the girl from the Grudge with my hair streaming all over my face in the process.
Afterward, we spent some time at the pool, which, little did I know, is equipped with a hot tub, lazy river, whirlpool, steam room, and sauna. It was a very well-spent Sunday night. When I came home and spent a few hours organizing my cross-cultural journalism group's stuff, it was not even discouraging. Basically, the mentality going on was: if I can do a freaking t-rescue and flip my kayak over, I can most definitely pwn this project.
New motto. For sure.
Sunday, February 19, 2012
who is this girl?
screaming: Scary Monsters and Nice Sprites - Skrillex
When I think back to my first semester at college, I giggle a little because, well, I was such a nerd. I was so scared to death of failing out and disappointing everyone who told me in high school that I could be the ruler of the universe if I so wanted blah blah blah, so I think I was so frightened of failure that I just kept my head down as much as possible and dug in with academics.
No longer.
Well.
Lana and I have this joke that we're slowly becoming the same person--she's amping up her schoolwork and studying, and I'm taking cues from her and devoting a much larger portion of my day to napping, hanging out with my floor in the lounge (i.e. going to see Chronicle--which was flipping incredible--and then hysterically re-enacting it), kick-boxing classes at the rec center (practicing those moves in the elevator alone probably helped, just saying) and just doing things that make me truly happy. It's so silly to say that I've finally made a commitment to kind of, uh, enjoy life a little more?
Not that I've totally given school the middle finger. Please. I still have that Asian blood running through these veins, as diluted by Nutella as they may be. ;) But it just doesn't bug me as much now when I walk out of a cross-cultural journalism exam not caring that I just wrote seven pages of total B.S. for it, for example, or when I am staring at a huge to-do list in the eye. I know the important stuff will get done, so why worry?
You're probably all staring at me like, duhhh..... but believe you me, this is a rather remarkable break through for the girl who freaked out over losing points in school her whole life. It's so freeing.
Other stuff that's been going on this week--Thursday, I got to stand in Speakers Circle, one of the focal points of campus where everyone walks through on their way to class, and help sell baked goods with my Alternative Spring Break trip group. After having so many meetings and activities together, we're really bonding, and so harassing people walking by to buy our cookies and cupcakes became uproariously fun. Later in the week, I also went to the student health center for the first time since I've been on campus to make sure I didn't break my tailbone from snowboarding over winter break (it's still sore....), and I also held another meeting with my cross-cultural journalism group to work on our final project. I brought leftover bake sale cookies, and one of the other kids and I stopped to get milk, and so I think our group is bonding together quite nicely.
School and working for Design Bureau has taken up the rest of my time. As spring nears, I'm crossing my fingers to be able to intern for Design Bureau, because I've really learned a lot about deadline writing and researching just from doing this free-lance stuff for them. After this week, I'll have written ten posts that went live on their website, and then I'll actually be paid! Oh, the journalism life. Wish me luck on that, or maybe even on that Fueled By Ramen internship. Thinking about this summer makes me alternately freaking thrilled and nervous...but in a good way.
Yesterday was an excellent example of how I've changed my look on life this semester. Last fall, Saturdays were for doing homework, more homework, and then maybe watching a movie with some girls in the lounge, doing some homework on the side, staring beadily with lots of judgment at the other girls who were going out to frats, and then being in bed by midnight, tops.
Instead, yesterday, I went to the Macaroni Grill with Lana and two other girls from my floor because Lana's dad was in town, and then after stuffing ourselves properly with pesto spaghetti, we went to the grocery store and messed around for a good while, trying on SpongeBob snuggies and buying way too many waffles. I did manage to get a lot of work done, but I also had time to look up a Youtube video and bust out the craft skills for a while to cut this white t-shirt for a blacklight party that night.
Here is the finished product! This is what the back of my shirt looked like. (Although a little worse for the wear, given that it's Sunday morning...)
And here is the video I watched to learn how to do it. It's super easy, and I got a lot of compliments on my shirt last night. One very inebriated girl was like, "I looooove your shirt. It's like all...woooohhhhh!!!"
Pledge Boy, the guy I met at my first frat party, was the one who invited me to this shindig on Thursday, bragging that it was going to be his frat's biggest party of the year, and that I should bring all of my friends and get ready to enjoy the highlighter fest to the fullest. So we did! I wore this white shirt, my black high-waisted skinny jeans, a white belt, white pumps, and red lipstick, trying to work the whole 90s grunge girl meets Greaser kind of look. Not sure how successful it was, but we headed over to the frat house around 11 with about seven other girls, all of whom I knew pretty well, so we were all chummy and squealing and giddy. The party was absolutely packed, but they actually played decent music, so we danced it up (Lana and me, sober; everyone else, a healthy dose of jungle juice). It was kind of funny to watch some of my closest friends get progressively more and more drunk, so I had to help her around and sort of grimace/laugh when she would confusedly color on strangers.
The basketball team showed up later, and pretty much all the girls went nuts. My friends clamored to get some of the starters to sign their shirt, their boob, their anything, and to dance with them. It was so funny to see how star-struck we all were. I'm sure the frat boys who let the basketball team in were like, crap, that wasn't so well thought out because all the girls just latched onto them.
My friends kept asking me where Pledge Boy was, since some of them hadn't met him, so I texted him to come find me, though it was kind of more fun just to hang out with the girls. After a few hours, most of them wanted to go home, but I stayed with Ally and one of her friends just to see if there was anything else that was exciting. Eventually, I saw Pledge Boy across the room and waved him over, (slightly unsure if it was him because he'd cut his hair), and he was quite wasted, we'll just say. Even if he had been able to keep up coherent conversation, it would have been impossible with the loud dubstep music pouring from the speakers in the room, so we danced for a while. He kept getting incredibly frisky, though, and for a girl who's not used to ever being in a situation where a drunk guy is trying to bury his face in your hair and then kiss you, I was like...exit time....
I guess I should have seen this coming, especially since he drunk-dialed me Thursday night (thankfully, I had my phone off and was fast asleep). But even if I were especially into Pledge Boy--which I'm not--I just couldn't bear the thought of being like one of the many girls who were sloppily making out with frat boys in the corner of the room...it just seems so weird and tacky to me right now.
So Ally, her friend, and I left (Pledge Boy being like all "but I realllllllly reallllly like you!" and me being all "Uh, bye."), but our friends had taken our coats with them, so we were doomed to walk back in the 30-degree weather in our razored and sweaty white shirts and heels. Ally eventually found a guy who gave us a sober ride back, but we still wound up waiting around outside (and rationally rejecting a ride from the basketball team as they rolled by). But it was sort of one of those cute bonding moments the three of us had, complaining about the weather/our feet/how tired we were. We got back at 2, and I was so exhausted that I literally climbed straight into bed and passed out until about 2 in the afternoon.
Hehe.
So that's the story of my second fratting experience. And you know what? I think I enjoy going to frat parties...I can't believe I'm saying that. Last semester, I was convinced they were the devil, and that only sluts went to them. But now I totally understand the appeal--it's a great way to just blow off steam, hang out with friends, dress up, and meet people. And if it's all done sober and without any nasty beer-induced PDA, what's the harm?
When I think back to my first semester at college, I giggle a little because, well, I was such a nerd. I was so scared to death of failing out and disappointing everyone who told me in high school that I could be the ruler of the universe if I so wanted blah blah blah, so I think I was so frightened of failure that I just kept my head down as much as possible and dug in with academics.
No longer.
Well.
Lana and I have this joke that we're slowly becoming the same person--she's amping up her schoolwork and studying, and I'm taking cues from her and devoting a much larger portion of my day to napping, hanging out with my floor in the lounge (i.e. going to see Chronicle--which was flipping incredible--and then hysterically re-enacting it), kick-boxing classes at the rec center (practicing those moves in the elevator alone probably helped, just saying) and just doing things that make me truly happy. It's so silly to say that I've finally made a commitment to kind of, uh, enjoy life a little more?
Not that I've totally given school the middle finger. Please. I still have that Asian blood running through these veins, as diluted by Nutella as they may be. ;) But it just doesn't bug me as much now when I walk out of a cross-cultural journalism exam not caring that I just wrote seven pages of total B.S. for it, for example, or when I am staring at a huge to-do list in the eye. I know the important stuff will get done, so why worry?
You're probably all staring at me like, duhhh..... but believe you me, this is a rather remarkable break through for the girl who freaked out over losing points in school her whole life. It's so freeing.
Other stuff that's been going on this week--Thursday, I got to stand in Speakers Circle, one of the focal points of campus where everyone walks through on their way to class, and help sell baked goods with my Alternative Spring Break trip group. After having so many meetings and activities together, we're really bonding, and so harassing people walking by to buy our cookies and cupcakes became uproariously fun. Later in the week, I also went to the student health center for the first time since I've been on campus to make sure I didn't break my tailbone from snowboarding over winter break (it's still sore....), and I also held another meeting with my cross-cultural journalism group to work on our final project. I brought leftover bake sale cookies, and one of the other kids and I stopped to get milk, and so I think our group is bonding together quite nicely.
School and working for Design Bureau has taken up the rest of my time. As spring nears, I'm crossing my fingers to be able to intern for Design Bureau, because I've really learned a lot about deadline writing and researching just from doing this free-lance stuff for them. After this week, I'll have written ten posts that went live on their website, and then I'll actually be paid! Oh, the journalism life. Wish me luck on that, or maybe even on that Fueled By Ramen internship. Thinking about this summer makes me alternately freaking thrilled and nervous...but in a good way.
Yesterday was an excellent example of how I've changed my look on life this semester. Last fall, Saturdays were for doing homework, more homework, and then maybe watching a movie with some girls in the lounge, doing some homework on the side, staring beadily with lots of judgment at the other girls who were going out to frats, and then being in bed by midnight, tops.
Instead, yesterday, I went to the Macaroni Grill with Lana and two other girls from my floor because Lana's dad was in town, and then after stuffing ourselves properly with pesto spaghetti, we went to the grocery store and messed around for a good while, trying on SpongeBob snuggies and buying way too many waffles. I did manage to get a lot of work done, but I also had time to look up a Youtube video and bust out the craft skills for a while to cut this white t-shirt for a blacklight party that night.
Here is the finished product! This is what the back of my shirt looked like. (Although a little worse for the wear, given that it's Sunday morning...)
And here is the video I watched to learn how to do it. It's super easy, and I got a lot of compliments on my shirt last night. One very inebriated girl was like, "I looooove your shirt. It's like all...woooohhhhh!!!"
Pledge Boy, the guy I met at my first frat party, was the one who invited me to this shindig on Thursday, bragging that it was going to be his frat's biggest party of the year, and that I should bring all of my friends and get ready to enjoy the highlighter fest to the fullest. So we did! I wore this white shirt, my black high-waisted skinny jeans, a white belt, white pumps, and red lipstick, trying to work the whole 90s grunge girl meets Greaser kind of look. Not sure how successful it was, but we headed over to the frat house around 11 with about seven other girls, all of whom I knew pretty well, so we were all chummy and squealing and giddy. The party was absolutely packed, but they actually played decent music, so we danced it up (Lana and me, sober; everyone else, a healthy dose of jungle juice). It was kind of funny to watch some of my closest friends get progressively more and more drunk, so I had to help her around and sort of grimace/laugh when she would confusedly color on strangers.
The basketball team showed up later, and pretty much all the girls went nuts. My friends clamored to get some of the starters to sign their shirt, their boob, their anything, and to dance with them. It was so funny to see how star-struck we all were. I'm sure the frat boys who let the basketball team in were like, crap, that wasn't so well thought out because all the girls just latched onto them.
My friends kept asking me where Pledge Boy was, since some of them hadn't met him, so I texted him to come find me, though it was kind of more fun just to hang out with the girls. After a few hours, most of them wanted to go home, but I stayed with Ally and one of her friends just to see if there was anything else that was exciting. Eventually, I saw Pledge Boy across the room and waved him over, (slightly unsure if it was him because he'd cut his hair), and he was quite wasted, we'll just say. Even if he had been able to keep up coherent conversation, it would have been impossible with the loud dubstep music pouring from the speakers in the room, so we danced for a while. He kept getting incredibly frisky, though, and for a girl who's not used to ever being in a situation where a drunk guy is trying to bury his face in your hair and then kiss you, I was like...exit time....
I guess I should have seen this coming, especially since he drunk-dialed me Thursday night (thankfully, I had my phone off and was fast asleep). But even if I were especially into Pledge Boy--which I'm not--I just couldn't bear the thought of being like one of the many girls who were sloppily making out with frat boys in the corner of the room...it just seems so weird and tacky to me right now.
So Ally, her friend, and I left (Pledge Boy being like all "but I realllllllly reallllly like you!" and me being all "Uh, bye."), but our friends had taken our coats with them, so we were doomed to walk back in the 30-degree weather in our razored and sweaty white shirts and heels. Ally eventually found a guy who gave us a sober ride back, but we still wound up waiting around outside (and rationally rejecting a ride from the basketball team as they rolled by). But it was sort of one of those cute bonding moments the three of us had, complaining about the weather/our feet/how tired we were. We got back at 2, and I was so exhausted that I literally climbed straight into bed and passed out until about 2 in the afternoon.
Hehe.
So that's the story of my second fratting experience. And you know what? I think I enjoy going to frat parties...I can't believe I'm saying that. Last semester, I was convinced they were the devil, and that only sluts went to them. But now I totally understand the appeal--it's a great way to just blow off steam, hang out with friends, dress up, and meet people. And if it's all done sober and without any nasty beer-induced PDA, what's the harm?
Thursday, February 16, 2012
valentines schmalentines
screaming: I'm Yours - Jason Mraz
Thank goodness that Valentines Day is only once a year, because I think the world would internally combust otherwise. The flowers, the pink, the chocolate...okay, well, I only complain about the chocolate because we had this amazing chocolate buffet at our dining hall. And like a slightly jaded single girl with a full appetite, I had this great ambition to try all of the cakes and puddings and chocolate, and shortly afterward, I wanted to surgically remove my stomach out of nausea.
Most of this week has been a bit lame because I managed to catch a cold, and no matter how much I try to sleep it off (getting 24 hours of sleep within two days is probably the prime highlight of my life), I just can't shake it completely. So for the rest of last weekend, I just watched The Vow with some ladies on my floor (Channing Tatum, you own my heart, now and forevermore), left Clay the cutest message ever on his voicemail for his birthday (and got a "thanks bro" text in return--some things never change) and did homework.
I did manage to get my sniffles under control to have our first cross-cultural journalism final project group meeting. We've been assigned to groups of eight complete strangers, and we're supposed to work together to come up with this huge news story examining different controversies (ours is Leisha Hailey's being escorted off Southwest Airlines because she was kissing her girlfriend), and it's a big vague mess right now because no one knows what we're doing. But so far, I really like everyone in my group, and okay, I secretly love leading a group again. Brings back the good ol' student council days and all, you know.
Also, it helps when the TA assigned to work with us is smoking hot and looks like Louis from My Life as Liz. Also, it helps when there is this cute bookish ginger in the group who was willing to help me do some background research for our meeting in the J-school library, and who just called me a few hours ago asking my opinion about our exam tomorrow.
Just saying.
The grad student I work with gave me and the other work study student a little box of chocolate on Monday, and I was floored. No one's ever bought me chocolate before (my parents don't really understand Christmas, much less V-day), so it was such a sweet (no pun intended) gesture of him. I felt bad that I was feeling too sick to do much at work except sit around, read the news, and eat Chipotle for lunch.
Later that night, after I made a grocery run with Cara, we talked about Roger and she was like, girl, get on that!!!!! So I finally sucked it up and during one of the times Roger and I were chatting (at one point, we had chatted three different times that day. The boy needs to get off Facebook. Disregard my hypocritical tone) and I was finally just like hey, get lunch with me tomorrow! (Forgetting, sort of, that it was Valentines Day). He was all, uh, "that's my busiest day, I can't," and tried to make Wednesday/the rest of the week work, but with my work schedule, I just couldn't.
Freaking work. If it weren't for those chocolate-giving grad students...
So the consensus with that whole situation is that maybe we'll hang out next week? Ugh. Sometimes I get so insanely frustrated and think, girl, there is so much I could be doing with my free time instead of talking to Mr. Fickle, but then there are times (usually when I'm on my fourth conversation with Frat Pledge Boy about the weather) when I'm like, Roger is soooo witty. Roger is soooo funny. Roger and I tottttttallllly get each other. We can talk foreverrrrrrrr.
So I wound up just eating lunch alone on Valentines Day, which actually is not a big shocker because I usually do that on days before polysci (in which I set the curve with regard to our first exam! boo-yah!) but there was something annoyingly cliche about digging into my burger and listening to some sadistic person's V-day playlist of Green Day. Thanks, Billy Joe. As if I asked you to sing, I walk these lonely streets on the boulevard of broken dreams.
Most importantly, though, I got to help plan a V-day surprise for my roommate! Lana's boyfriend is from her high school, and he's super friendly and has visited before, so I'm even facebook friends with him. A few weeks ago, we started messaging each other about planning a surprise for Lana for this holiday, and so he drove down four hours from his college, and I had to get her out of the room so he could sneak in and surprise her. Except I sort of messed it up at the last minute, when he called me to say he was here, and Lana totally heard his voice on the phone. Whatever. She was so thrilled.
I was supposed to go Valentines Day carolling all evening to help my Alternative Spring Break group raise money, but that was a fail because only two other guys showed up, so I ended up just renting out a study room in the basement of the dorm and studying there all night, so as to give Lana and her boyfriend some together time in our room.
This morning, I accidentally stepped on him, sleeping on our floor, on my way out the door, but I only felt sort of bad about it. I mean, let's be real--the fairy godmother can't be perfect, right?
I was mostly just relieved all the hubbub about V-day was over today, especially since I had to go do my newswriting class video interview with this director at the hospital. Sam was so sweet--he and this other guy are partners with me for our video interviews, so he came with me to be my camera man/hold my coat and five-ton bookbag as I frantically tore down the hospital hallways, jamming on my high heels and fixing my hair because we ended up a little late.
Then afterwards, I studied with Gail, who was also sick, so we feasted on cough drops and Naked mango juice, and then after a good nap and some hardcore cookie-baking for my Alternative Spring Break bake sale tomorrow, I...uh...studied some more?
Well. My friend from home Dianna just called me with news that she's officially engaged, and Lana just told me that her boyfriend gave her free tickets to go see All Time Low. Meanwhile, I'm staring at an evening of cross-cultural journalism review.
My time will come. My time will come...
Saturday, February 11, 2012
the crazy week
screaming: White Dress - Parachute
Remember how a few weeks ago, back during winter break, I was all, "I can't wait to go back to school; it'll be nice to be busy again!"
Ha.
This week was definitely one of the craziest I've ever had, but the good news (and spoiler alert, I'm afraid): I survived! And now I feel pretty beast having conquered such a chaotic sevenish days. The trick to staying sane (for the most part) through it all was having some solid zumba sessions, Gumby's pizza eating and naps squeezed in between everything to keep refreshed and motivated.
The major reason for the craziness was this great idea I had to attend two concerts within two days of each other. The first, on Tuesday night, was to see The All-American Rejects in Columbia. So fun! I dragged my roommate along with me, and though it was quite miserable walking through the snow-sleet to get downtown that night, the Rejects played a fantastic set, bringing out old hits like "Dirty Little Secret" and "Swing, Swing" alongside their newest (and really rockin') single "Beekeeper's Daughter." The little preteen girl inside of me still swooned when Tyson Ritter took the stage. Here are a few photos I snapped of the evening:
It would have been cool to stay afterwards and get stuff signed by Tyson and Nick, but my roommate wasn't feeling very well, so we trudged home and tried to think healthy thoughts, because Thursday, we road-tripped with one of her friends from home to St. Louis to see Parachute at this nifty little venue called the Firebird. It was such a small, cozy venue that it reminded me of the little grungy ones I used to go to all the time in high school, and definitely brought back some memories. The opening bands for Parachute were pretty typical of a small venue, but it was so cool to see Parachute live. Will, the lead singer, was so charismatic and yet clean-cut, and we ended up meeting him and taking photos with him afterwards. Sure, it sucked to have to drive two hours back home...but it was definitely worth it. Here is a rather sketchy picture I took of Will--pardon the lighting.
Classes, of course, in honor of what my roommate is calling Concertfest 2012 on our part, did not just magically understand. Econ has still been frustrating, but a little less so because I finally sucked up my pride and went in to office hours with the professor, and political science's first exam was rather blown off in the studying department...but I just took the exam yesterday, and I think I did all right on it. I mean, you get the gist that democracy is a good thing after a few weeks in class alone.
In my cross-cultural journalism class, we are starting on these enormous group projects, where we have to work with seven other kids randomly assigned with us on an important issue and do boatloads of research, and I wound up being group leader. Part of me was like, girl are you crazy? You do NOT need more on your plate, but part of me kind of missed stretching the ol' student council muscles, and it was kind of nice to take the reins on something again. I'm excited about my group--they all seem like really cool people, and the topic we're covering the whole Southwest Airlines vs. Leisha Hailey controversy, which is a pretty awesome subject, considering some groups got to plan political campaigns.
Freaking newswriting has been dictating the rest of my life, though. We had to go to a city council meeting on Monday night, and it lasted over three hours. I pretty much rotted in my chair, although in hindsight, I ended up bonding really well with two other kids from my class. We then had to pick some issues from the meeting to write a report on, and so when I wasn't rifling through the AP stylebook trying to figure out if "City Council"should be capitalized on second reference or not, I was calling up city councilmen and other community leaders to get quotes for my article. Talk about stressful. It was a bit discouraging to get my draft back today and see an 86% on it, but hey, it's whatever. I'll work on it.
Somehow over the week, I had time to recover (and rehash) from my first frat party over the weekend, watch a bit of the Superbowl (so, Madonna disappears, and then we world peace? okay...), get a taco stolen from me at Chipotle (Having just come from work where I did hours and hours of research on death row prisoners who killed because they didn't want to be discovered robbing, I was too terrified to say anything to the guy who swiped my taco. The manager gave me a new, free one. Probably because it looked like I was going to cry otherwise), bond with a sophomore reporter about bands and recover from those two concerts. Oh, and I got to enjoy my new Nike kicks for a little bit--aren't they super hip?
You'd think that with that kind of schedule going on during the week, I'd have a level head on and focus on the important things, i.e., surviving. But during a lot of moments like the longest city council meeting known to man and the car rides to St. Louis, I talked a lot more to Roger, reasoning that hey, we've been essentially using each other for conversation whenever we're bored, and it was fine. He's been chatting me up every chance we're both on Facebook together, so it's almost to that point where we've been talking as much as we used to. And it's kind of like the good ol' days, in a way, because I get to be witty (well, I get to try to be witty) and get entertained and feel cool, of course, that I'm talking to him. But we all know I can never keep a level head around attractive boys for very long. It's just a bit frustrating that we've been talking so much, and we haven't actually seen each other since before Thanksgiving.
I'm not really looking for a relationship or anything serious, but it feels like if we spend so much time just talking online or via text, it would only be natural to hang out a bit. I've brought it up a few times and he just kind of doesn't get it, or he pretends to be funny and snarky. And I just want to reach through the depths of Facebook chat, grab him by his shoulders, and shake him down. Come on, bro. Are you just messing with me because you can, or are you really that self-conscious?
Whatever. My friends think I should just ignore him--I've got pa-lenty of things on my plate to keep my busy, but it's kind of sad I just can't shake this kid as easily as I should.
Theme of my life, let's be real. Clay's birthday is today--I think I'll call him and see how he's doing. And maybe that'll remind me to shape up and get real.
Remember how a few weeks ago, back during winter break, I was all, "I can't wait to go back to school; it'll be nice to be busy again!"
Ha.
This week was definitely one of the craziest I've ever had, but the good news (and spoiler alert, I'm afraid): I survived! And now I feel pretty beast having conquered such a chaotic sevenish days. The trick to staying sane (for the most part) through it all was having some solid zumba sessions, Gumby's pizza eating and naps squeezed in between everything to keep refreshed and motivated.
The major reason for the craziness was this great idea I had to attend two concerts within two days of each other. The first, on Tuesday night, was to see The All-American Rejects in Columbia. So fun! I dragged my roommate along with me, and though it was quite miserable walking through the snow-sleet to get downtown that night, the Rejects played a fantastic set, bringing out old hits like "Dirty Little Secret" and "Swing, Swing" alongside their newest (and really rockin') single "Beekeeper's Daughter." The little preteen girl inside of me still swooned when Tyson Ritter took the stage. Here are a few photos I snapped of the evening:
 |
| tyson, i still freaking love you. |
 |
| my interviewee buddy, Mike! |
It would have been cool to stay afterwards and get stuff signed by Tyson and Nick, but my roommate wasn't feeling very well, so we trudged home and tried to think healthy thoughts, because Thursday, we road-tripped with one of her friends from home to St. Louis to see Parachute at this nifty little venue called the Firebird. It was such a small, cozy venue that it reminded me of the little grungy ones I used to go to all the time in high school, and definitely brought back some memories. The opening bands for Parachute were pretty typical of a small venue, but it was so cool to see Parachute live. Will, the lead singer, was so charismatic and yet clean-cut, and we ended up meeting him and taking photos with him afterwards. Sure, it sucked to have to drive two hours back home...but it was definitely worth it. Here is a rather sketchy picture I took of Will--pardon the lighting.
Classes, of course, in honor of what my roommate is calling Concertfest 2012 on our part, did not just magically understand. Econ has still been frustrating, but a little less so because I finally sucked up my pride and went in to office hours with the professor, and political science's first exam was rather blown off in the studying department...but I just took the exam yesterday, and I think I did all right on it. I mean, you get the gist that democracy is a good thing after a few weeks in class alone.
In my cross-cultural journalism class, we are starting on these enormous group projects, where we have to work with seven other kids randomly assigned with us on an important issue and do boatloads of research, and I wound up being group leader. Part of me was like, girl are you crazy? You do NOT need more on your plate, but part of me kind of missed stretching the ol' student council muscles, and it was kind of nice to take the reins on something again. I'm excited about my group--they all seem like really cool people, and the topic we're covering the whole Southwest Airlines vs. Leisha Hailey controversy, which is a pretty awesome subject, considering some groups got to plan political campaigns.
Freaking newswriting has been dictating the rest of my life, though. We had to go to a city council meeting on Monday night, and it lasted over three hours. I pretty much rotted in my chair, although in hindsight, I ended up bonding really well with two other kids from my class. We then had to pick some issues from the meeting to write a report on, and so when I wasn't rifling through the AP stylebook trying to figure out if "City Council"should be capitalized on second reference or not, I was calling up city councilmen and other community leaders to get quotes for my article. Talk about stressful. It was a bit discouraging to get my draft back today and see an 86% on it, but hey, it's whatever. I'll work on it.
Somehow over the week, I had time to recover (and rehash) from my first frat party over the weekend, watch a bit of the Superbowl (so, Madonna disappears, and then we world peace? okay...), get a taco stolen from me at Chipotle (Having just come from work where I did hours and hours of research on death row prisoners who killed because they didn't want to be discovered robbing, I was too terrified to say anything to the guy who swiped my taco. The manager gave me a new, free one. Probably because it looked like I was going to cry otherwise), bond with a sophomore reporter about bands and recover from those two concerts. Oh, and I got to enjoy my new Nike kicks for a little bit--aren't they super hip?
You'd think that with that kind of schedule going on during the week, I'd have a level head on and focus on the important things, i.e., surviving. But during a lot of moments like the longest city council meeting known to man and the car rides to St. Louis, I talked a lot more to Roger, reasoning that hey, we've been essentially using each other for conversation whenever we're bored, and it was fine. He's been chatting me up every chance we're both on Facebook together, so it's almost to that point where we've been talking as much as we used to. And it's kind of like the good ol' days, in a way, because I get to be witty (well, I get to try to be witty) and get entertained and feel cool, of course, that I'm talking to him. But we all know I can never keep a level head around attractive boys for very long. It's just a bit frustrating that we've been talking so much, and we haven't actually seen each other since before Thanksgiving.
I'm not really looking for a relationship or anything serious, but it feels like if we spend so much time just talking online or via text, it would only be natural to hang out a bit. I've brought it up a few times and he just kind of doesn't get it, or he pretends to be funny and snarky. And I just want to reach through the depths of Facebook chat, grab him by his shoulders, and shake him down. Come on, bro. Are you just messing with me because you can, or are you really that self-conscious?
Whatever. My friends think I should just ignore him--I've got pa-lenty of things on my plate to keep my busy, but it's kind of sad I just can't shake this kid as easily as I should.
Theme of my life, let's be real. Clay's birthday is today--I think I'll call him and see how he's doing. And maybe that'll remind me to shape up and get real.
Sunday, February 5, 2012
weirdest saturday ever
screaming: All The Pretty Girls - Fun.
Weirdest. Saturday. Ever.
Scratch that. It just might make the list for weirdest day ever.
Originally, the plan for this weekend was to buckle down and get as much homework and studying done as possible, because this coming week, I'm going to see The All-American Rejects on Tuesday night, and then I'm going with Lana and another girl to St. Louis to see Parachute on Thursday. Totally spur of the moment, and totally college-esque of me, no?
Friday night, I was so overwhelmed by all the homework and just plain tired from my ASB trip's failed attempt at canning downtown (where we begged drunk people for money for our trip), and so I just ended up watching Moulin Rouge with some girls and ordered HotBox cookies and chilled. The next morning, on Saturday, Lana left to go see her boyfriend and her high school's show choir who were performing in the next town over in Missouri, so I was left to my own devices and a huge mound of homework.
First, though, I had to ship out the care package that I put together with the help of some people on my floor to my soldier pen-pal from Adopt A U.S. Soldier, except being a total journalistic genius, I never thought about the logistics of heaving a 20-lb box two miles downtown. I ended up borrowing a moving dolly from the front desk of the residence hall and pushed it through the rainy morning all the way to the post office, and it wasn't until I breathlessly (still sore from ballet fit on Thursday) got there when I realized I'd been pushing the dolly in the most incorrect, ineffective way possible. This is why I'm not an engineering major. I had been scared to ship it out because I'd tried the price-estimator on the post office's website and UPS's website, and they had given me a cost range from $100-$300, which kiiinda freaked me out, because there wasn't anything all that valuable in the box besides peanut butter. Luckily, sending the whole box to Afghanistan only ended up costing me $40 (USPS.com, you liar you), and then I just dragged the moving dolly back home (more efficiently this time).
The whole campus was really quiet because we were having the biggest home basketball game ever, and ESPN was even here to cover it, so everyone and their mother was at the basketball arena. This provided the perfect, quiet afternoon to do homework, but once dinnertime hit/I realized just how much I had to do still, I started freaking out a lot and having one of those life evaluations where I was considering burning my econ textbook and just joining the Peace Corps. I ended up calling my mom, bawling my head off about stress and feeling lonely and missing home, and we talked for a couple of hours just about everything, and it definitely made me feel so much better. Man. Those emotional breakdowns are just so fun.
After getting off the phone with my mom, I was decidedly calmer. I've always been so used to being completely on top of school and stuff like that, and now that I'm doing these two jobs and being involved in so much this semester, the feeling of not being totally in control has driven me crazy. But I just need to keep practicing being chill. And going to the gym for kickboxing class, because that helps the whole stress factor like none other.
I did some more homework and was just trying to decide if I should call it a night and Netflix some heartwarming movie when my friend Stella knocked on my door and asked if I wanted to go out with her and some other girls on our floor that night. Stella is one of my closest friends here--she has a heart of gold, and she's just the biggest goofball ever. She likes going to the frat parties because she can dance--and man, is she good at that--but she's so playful and chill about everything, and so she has tried to get me to go out with them a couple of times before. I opened my mouth to say my usual automatic no thanks, but then maybe all the bawling on the phone short-circuited something in my brain, because I ended up deciding completely on whim, well, why not?
Even though everyone out that night was going to still be in their Mizzou garb from the basketball game, I figured that since this was my first frat party, I might as well go big or go home. So out came the black stilettos, black skinny jeans, and filmy blue blouse. Out came the mascara, lipstick, and hairspray. Half of me was nervous and freaking out, screaming at the other half of myself what the hell do you think you're doing, and the other half somehow just didn't seem to care. Life is short. Why not?
At about 11:30, five of us girls began the trek through the misty rain to Greektown, and I started to get really giddy/anxious, but Stella just walked with me and chattered away, making me feel better. The first frat house we stopped at, we knew a guy from our floor who was in it. But it was all just a bunch of guys playing beer pong, so we left after just standing awkwardly around and ventured into a few more houses before finally staying at one called Farm House. The basement we ended up in was dark, loud, and filled with the smell of beer and sweaty people playing beer pong, dancing, and drinking.
I pretty much just stood there thinking, oh my God. What have I gotten myself into.
Some of the girls made a beeline for the drinks, so I stayed with Stella and a few others to dance and talk, but it was so awkward because we didn't know anyone else. Most of the floor was packed with other girls, with the occasional frat guy weaving in and out to grind up against some ladies and spill beer everywhere. The music was awful--not even Top 40. I just kept looking around, thinking, so...this is it? This is what the majority of the Mizzou population lives for?
I guess I'm a little biased. Maybe these things seem a lot more fun when you're intoxicated.
But somehow, as the night wore on, people loosened up and the music got a liiiittle better, and I just threw my jacket down and danced. I figured I had nothing to lose--after that emotional breakdown, I was in this whole free-to-be-me mindset, and besides, in that dark basement, no one would ever see if I looked like I fool dancing, and come tomorrow morning, no one would even remember, anyways. Some frat guys came up to my friends and I and danced around us a bit, and then they would pick one girl to pair up with. I have to admit, some of them were pretty cute, but having seen my fair share of Sydney White and House Bunny, I was too scared to make any moves.
At some point, though, a tall blond guy, beer in hand, came up to me and asked if I wanted to dance, and still in that screw-it-why-not phase, I agreed. It was awkward and clumsy and weird, but in the dark of the basement and the din of the music, no one cared. It was so surreal--I could only imagine what my friends back home would think if they could see me with a frat boy's arm around my waist!
After a few songs, I waited for him to just kind of leave and find another girl to grind up on because that seemed to be the custom, but instead, he hung around and started asking me where I was from, what I was studying, and what kind of music I liked. I found out that he was a freshman, too, and he was a pledge from Farm House (meaning that he was not officially a member, but he was going to be after initiation), and that made me feel better. If he'd been some senior frat star, I would have been pretty sketched out.
Happy just to be talking to someone (read: some boy) new for the first time in a while, we yelled our conversation over the music into each other's ear. He was so freaking tall--even in my four-inch heels, he towered over me. A few times, he had to go get his senior frat members some drinks, but he would always tell me to wait for him on the floor, which provided ample time for me and my friends to gather around and squeal. But it was okay because through Chris Brown's singing that blasted through the house, no one heard us.
When he came back, I introduced him to my friends and we danced a little more, but then he asked if I wanted to go sit on the couches by the stairs. Even though there was a voice in the back of my head that was like omg what if 'sit on the couches' means rape omg omg omg frat danger! my feet were screaming/slightly numb from my heels, so I took him up on the offer, since the couches area was better lit and my sketch radar wasn't going completely berserk.
So we just sat at the side of the room, talking and laughing, for at least an hour. Pledge Boy was also a journalism student, so we had quite a bit to discuss there. He was definitely quite buzzed, but he was able to keep up a coherent conversation, very sweetly asking me about my siblings and what I wanted to be when I grew up, and in turn, telling me about the pledge process and how the frat had made all the pledges run 3 miles naked once. In general, he was just very nice--a little awkward and very freshmanly, but given the events of the day and the fact that he could just as easily be a total creep, I just liked having someone to talk to.
At one point in the conversation, he had this goofy smile one and was like, "Can I kiss you?" And then I was just like......................no. "Not tonight," I managed to say, half-flattered, half-weirded out. Which seemed to be the general theme of the evening.
He ended up giving me his number, since his phone was dead, and made me pinky promise that I'd text him ("I've been waiting to meet a girl like you for a long time."..... "You're so drunk."......."Nuh uhhh....." ..... "yeah...."), and then I was so exhausted that I signalled to my girl friends that I wanted to leave, and we made our way home through the rain again, amped up on the whole evening's events and nearly crying in pain from our high heels.
I got home at 3 a.m.
So, in summary, I trudged through the rain with a giant 20-lb box, had an emotional breakdown, and then went to my first frat party and got hit on by a pledge.
Yeah. Definitely the weirdest Saturday ever.
Weirdest. Saturday. Ever.
Scratch that. It just might make the list for weirdest day ever.
Originally, the plan for this weekend was to buckle down and get as much homework and studying done as possible, because this coming week, I'm going to see The All-American Rejects on Tuesday night, and then I'm going with Lana and another girl to St. Louis to see Parachute on Thursday. Totally spur of the moment, and totally college-esque of me, no?
Friday night, I was so overwhelmed by all the homework and just plain tired from my ASB trip's failed attempt at canning downtown (where we begged drunk people for money for our trip), and so I just ended up watching Moulin Rouge with some girls and ordered HotBox cookies and chilled. The next morning, on Saturday, Lana left to go see her boyfriend and her high school's show choir who were performing in the next town over in Missouri, so I was left to my own devices and a huge mound of homework.
First, though, I had to ship out the care package that I put together with the help of some people on my floor to my soldier pen-pal from Adopt A U.S. Soldier, except being a total journalistic genius, I never thought about the logistics of heaving a 20-lb box two miles downtown. I ended up borrowing a moving dolly from the front desk of the residence hall and pushed it through the rainy morning all the way to the post office, and it wasn't until I breathlessly (still sore from ballet fit on Thursday) got there when I realized I'd been pushing the dolly in the most incorrect, ineffective way possible. This is why I'm not an engineering major. I had been scared to ship it out because I'd tried the price-estimator on the post office's website and UPS's website, and they had given me a cost range from $100-$300, which kiiinda freaked me out, because there wasn't anything all that valuable in the box besides peanut butter. Luckily, sending the whole box to Afghanistan only ended up costing me $40 (USPS.com, you liar you), and then I just dragged the moving dolly back home (more efficiently this time).
The whole campus was really quiet because we were having the biggest home basketball game ever, and ESPN was even here to cover it, so everyone and their mother was at the basketball arena. This provided the perfect, quiet afternoon to do homework, but once dinnertime hit/I realized just how much I had to do still, I started freaking out a lot and having one of those life evaluations where I was considering burning my econ textbook and just joining the Peace Corps. I ended up calling my mom, bawling my head off about stress and feeling lonely and missing home, and we talked for a couple of hours just about everything, and it definitely made me feel so much better. Man. Those emotional breakdowns are just so fun.
After getting off the phone with my mom, I was decidedly calmer. I've always been so used to being completely on top of school and stuff like that, and now that I'm doing these two jobs and being involved in so much this semester, the feeling of not being totally in control has driven me crazy. But I just need to keep practicing being chill. And going to the gym for kickboxing class, because that helps the whole stress factor like none other.
I did some more homework and was just trying to decide if I should call it a night and Netflix some heartwarming movie when my friend Stella knocked on my door and asked if I wanted to go out with her and some other girls on our floor that night. Stella is one of my closest friends here--she has a heart of gold, and she's just the biggest goofball ever. She likes going to the frat parties because she can dance--and man, is she good at that--but she's so playful and chill about everything, and so she has tried to get me to go out with them a couple of times before. I opened my mouth to say my usual automatic no thanks, but then maybe all the bawling on the phone short-circuited something in my brain, because I ended up deciding completely on whim, well, why not?
Even though everyone out that night was going to still be in their Mizzou garb from the basketball game, I figured that since this was my first frat party, I might as well go big or go home. So out came the black stilettos, black skinny jeans, and filmy blue blouse. Out came the mascara, lipstick, and hairspray. Half of me was nervous and freaking out, screaming at the other half of myself what the hell do you think you're doing, and the other half somehow just didn't seem to care. Life is short. Why not?
At about 11:30, five of us girls began the trek through the misty rain to Greektown, and I started to get really giddy/anxious, but Stella just walked with me and chattered away, making me feel better. The first frat house we stopped at, we knew a guy from our floor who was in it. But it was all just a bunch of guys playing beer pong, so we left after just standing awkwardly around and ventured into a few more houses before finally staying at one called Farm House. The basement we ended up in was dark, loud, and filled with the smell of beer and sweaty people playing beer pong, dancing, and drinking.
I pretty much just stood there thinking, oh my God. What have I gotten myself into.
Some of the girls made a beeline for the drinks, so I stayed with Stella and a few others to dance and talk, but it was so awkward because we didn't know anyone else. Most of the floor was packed with other girls, with the occasional frat guy weaving in and out to grind up against some ladies and spill beer everywhere. The music was awful--not even Top 40. I just kept looking around, thinking, so...this is it? This is what the majority of the Mizzou population lives for?
I guess I'm a little biased. Maybe these things seem a lot more fun when you're intoxicated.
But somehow, as the night wore on, people loosened up and the music got a liiiittle better, and I just threw my jacket down and danced. I figured I had nothing to lose--after that emotional breakdown, I was in this whole free-to-be-me mindset, and besides, in that dark basement, no one would ever see if I looked like I fool dancing, and come tomorrow morning, no one would even remember, anyways. Some frat guys came up to my friends and I and danced around us a bit, and then they would pick one girl to pair up with. I have to admit, some of them were pretty cute, but having seen my fair share of Sydney White and House Bunny, I was too scared to make any moves.
At some point, though, a tall blond guy, beer in hand, came up to me and asked if I wanted to dance, and still in that screw-it-why-not phase, I agreed. It was awkward and clumsy and weird, but in the dark of the basement and the din of the music, no one cared. It was so surreal--I could only imagine what my friends back home would think if they could see me with a frat boy's arm around my waist!
After a few songs, I waited for him to just kind of leave and find another girl to grind up on because that seemed to be the custom, but instead, he hung around and started asking me where I was from, what I was studying, and what kind of music I liked. I found out that he was a freshman, too, and he was a pledge from Farm House (meaning that he was not officially a member, but he was going to be after initiation), and that made me feel better. If he'd been some senior frat star, I would have been pretty sketched out.
Happy just to be talking to someone (read: some boy) new for the first time in a while, we yelled our conversation over the music into each other's ear. He was so freaking tall--even in my four-inch heels, he towered over me. A few times, he had to go get his senior frat members some drinks, but he would always tell me to wait for him on the floor, which provided ample time for me and my friends to gather around and squeal. But it was okay because through Chris Brown's singing that blasted through the house, no one heard us.
When he came back, I introduced him to my friends and we danced a little more, but then he asked if I wanted to go sit on the couches by the stairs. Even though there was a voice in the back of my head that was like omg what if 'sit on the couches' means rape omg omg omg frat danger! my feet were screaming/slightly numb from my heels, so I took him up on the offer, since the couches area was better lit and my sketch radar wasn't going completely berserk.
So we just sat at the side of the room, talking and laughing, for at least an hour. Pledge Boy was also a journalism student, so we had quite a bit to discuss there. He was definitely quite buzzed, but he was able to keep up a coherent conversation, very sweetly asking me about my siblings and what I wanted to be when I grew up, and in turn, telling me about the pledge process and how the frat had made all the pledges run 3 miles naked once. In general, he was just very nice--a little awkward and very freshmanly, but given the events of the day and the fact that he could just as easily be a total creep, I just liked having someone to talk to.
At one point in the conversation, he had this goofy smile one and was like, "Can I kiss you?" And then I was just like......................no. "Not tonight," I managed to say, half-flattered, half-weirded out. Which seemed to be the general theme of the evening.
He ended up giving me his number, since his phone was dead, and made me pinky promise that I'd text him ("I've been waiting to meet a girl like you for a long time."..... "You're so drunk."......."Nuh uhhh....." ..... "yeah...."), and then I was so exhausted that I signalled to my girl friends that I wanted to leave, and we made our way home through the rain again, amped up on the whole evening's events and nearly crying in pain from our high heels.
I got home at 3 a.m.
So, in summary, I trudged through the rain with a giant 20-lb box, had an emotional breakdown, and then went to my first frat party and got hit on by a pledge.
Yeah. Definitely the weirdest Saturday ever.
Friday, February 3, 2012
The All-American Rejects concert preview
Nine clips in about six months?
Not too bad, journo noob. Not too bad.
http://deliaesthetic.blogspot.com/2012/02/all-american-rejects-concert-preview.html
Not too bad, journo noob. Not too bad.
http://deliaesthetic.blogspot.com/2012/02/all-american-rejects-concert-preview.html
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