I’m doing homework. It’s a Saturday night, and I’m trying to make a map of America in the 1700s. (I’m a lot of fun at parties.) Our professor urged us to do some serious library research for this, but I’ve settled for Googling the name of the city in question and then clicking the Wikipedia article. I don’t know how I manage it, but I’m somehow the best and worst student. I’ll do my homework on a Saturday night, but I won’t do it well.
Anyway, I keep catching little snippets of news from whichever city I’m looking up. So I’m seeing everything from this
Personally, I’d rather be in Delaware right now.
I have a lot of misdirected enthusiasm. I babbled incoherently to my mom for roughly twenty minutes because Bastille is going to be giving a concert near me. I freaked about the Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them movie to my friend who doesn’t care about Harry Potter because she just happened to be there when I found out about it. But it was last night that I realized I really need to start learning my audience.
Me: DUDE YOUR SCHOOL IS GOING TO THE FUCKING ROSE BOWL!
Tara: I would not have even known that was a game that was happening had it not been for the nonstop screaming that is going on outside my window right now.
Me: I’ll bet everyone is going apeshit.
Tara: It’s been ten minutes and it’s still going.
Tara: And like three sirens have gone past.
Me: You guys haven’t been to the Rose Bowl in like twenty-six years!
Tara: That’s exciting I guess.
Me: And you’ll probably be playing the Stanford Christmas trees or whatever the hell they are, so it’s going to be a GAME.
Tara: …Rose Bowl is football, right?
See? I can be a Michigan Wolverine and still bleed green. I grew up a State fan! I just happen to go to, you know, the other school. Besides, we have a common enemy. You should have seen this coming, though, Buckeyes. No team as awful as ours should have gotten that close to beating you. I mean, jeez.
I was recently persuaded to download that trivia app, QuizUp, and it was a costly mistake. I swear I haven’t done any homework since I downloaded it eight hours ago. CUE THE FLASHBACK.
Me: I just got it
Me: I immediately started playing, just dove right in
Me: My roommate just heard me yell “SHIT”
Me: I think I accidentally unfriended you?
Me: Hypothetically, how would one change their location on this thing?
Me: Or rather, change it BACK
Me: Because it says I’m playing from American Samoa
Me: This all happened within five minutes of me downloading the app
Tara: Elodie, what the HELL
Tara and I then embarked on a furious battle of Harry Potter trivia knowledge that got more and more intense, with the result that we were eventually hitting buttons and choosing answers before we had even processed the question. At one point Tara said Harry’s aunt’s name was Pam.
Tara: I don’t even want to talk about that one.
Me: We all have regrets.
Tara: I thought they were going to ask me about Marge so I freaked out when I saw all the P names.
Me: You don’t have to explain yourself to ME, I said James Potter’s nickname was Padfoot.
SOMEONE HELP ME. I WAS HAVING ENOUGH TROUBLE DOING PRODUCTIVE THINGS EVEN BEFORE THIS CAME INTO MY LIFE. NOW I AM TRAPPED. FOREVER. I’VE ALREADY ACCEPTED DEFEAT.
Tara had a date the other night, and I said to her, “Should I send you possible topics of conversation all night just in case there’s a lull?” to which she said, “Do it.”
Home for the weekend to see my brother’s football game! I have a very loud, aggressive, guttural, borderline manly shout that I reserve specifically for football games. And usually, it’s things like “DEFENSE!” and “FACE MASK!” and “COME OOOONNNNN!” But today I turned to Allison and said, “I’m going to shout more positively today.” So there I was, in the middle of the stands, waving a noisemaker and screaming things like “IN IT TO WIN IT!” and “LET’S MAKE SOME MAGIC HAPPEN!” and “THIS IS WHAT DREAMS ARE MADE OF!”
It didn’t help, we lost. But I’ll be damned if my shouting wasn’t the most inspirational shouting in the entire stadium.
We finally got around to that awkward “introductions” thing in my poetry class. The professor reasoned that the first week of school is just rife with people dropping the class or getting switched into the class, so he’d wait until things settled down. Today he pulled the ultimate dick move by saying, “Let’s go around and say your name, where you’re from, and one fun fact about yourself.”
I mean, I like the guy. He’s cool as hell. But you can’t just drop the “one fun fact about yourself” bomb, then stand back and watch the damage unfold. You might as well say, “You’re going to have to make an impression that people will hold against you for the rest of the semester. And I’m giving you ten seconds to do it. Ready? Go.” I didn’t even get a chance to wrangle up an actual fun fact, because I was the second person he called on. So I wound up saying, lamely, that I hate cherries, “with a fiery passion.”
What I wasn’t expecting was the jaw-dropping reaction I got, and my professor said, “Really?” as if I’d mentioned casually that I drop-kick babies for fun sometimes.
“Well, yeah,” I said uneasily.
A boy sitting nearby started laughing, and he shook his head at the professor and said, “She said cherries.”
“Oh!” said the professor. “Oh! Oh my God, I thought you said charities.”
So for about ten seconds there, a solid 2/3 of the class and my professor thought I harbored a deep-seated, passionate hatred for things like Habitat for Humanity and the Red Cross.
Hey guys! I’m still alive, I promise you. The reason I haven’t been around much is because I’m a lazy ass. During the summer, my life has no structure. I’m basically vegetating day in and day out, and all that vegetating doesn’t leave much room for blogging. You feel me? Anyway, I just got this sweet internship—literally, like, two days ago—so my life has structure again. And, well, here we are.
I’m working in an office, and on my first official day I had to give tours of a nearby establishment to little kids, which, as you know, is a job I was woefully ill-suited for. Kids frighten me, and I frighten them. It’s a reciprocal thing. I did this for two hours, but that barely made a dent in my twelve-hour day. It should be said that I’ve never done anything for twelve hours before, much less worked. Eventually they ran out of things for me to do, so I furtively went on tumblr in the corner while other people ran around doing productive things.
As it stands right now, my desk is near the buzzer that we press to let people in. I think that’s a mistake. That’s a lot responsibility for someone like me. I spent most of the day thirsty, also, because the water cooler was almost empty and I didn’t want to be the one to fill it, because I didn’t know how to fill it. That’s going to be my goal for this week—figure out how to fill the water cooler.
Somebody had a birthday yesterday, and we sang happy birthday in the conference room. Being the newbie, I didn’t know the birthday boy’s name and just mouthed syllables when the moment came. It was Steve. I think I mouthed something like “Erghafgljg.”
So THAT’S what’s happening.
Last week my friends and I had a movie night. The plan was for us to go get some food and then rent a movie, but none of us could decide on where we wanted to eat. We had picky eaters and people who had just eaten at that one place the night before and people who didn’t have a lot of money, so the pickings were slim. Eventually, however, we were too hungry to make rational decisions, so we wound up going to this restaurant way across town. Nobody could remember who had suggested it, but it was mentioned in passing and we all slowly looked up as if heavenly beams of light were shining down on us from above.
“This must be what it feels like to make a decision,” I had said.
But the drive across town proved almost too much for us. We were all hungry, and traffic was bad, and Holly, who was driving, said, “Who the hell picked this place anyway?”
Nobody could remember. We weren’t even sure anyone had picked it; it seemed just as likely that we had all just piled into the car and started meandering over that way. We were all hungry and unhappy as we waited for the waiter, Dave, to come take our orders, and he was taking an almost absurdly long time for five people who were about ten minutes away from eating each other.
“There he is, there he is!” I whispered excitedly. “He’s right there, he’s—no, no, no, he’s turning around—no—DAVE, COME BACK!”
This last part I belted out so that everyone and his mother looked my way, Dave included. This finally brought a wave of merriment to the group as my friends all burst out laughing. It was at my expense, but still. It was the least I could do. (I’m like 40% sure I was the one who inadvertently selected the restaurant.)