Tubby Domain - Not So Tubby Anymore

My Turn

2006-02-03T20:20:00.000-08:00

Chris tagged me, and then harped me about not having completed this as of yet, so here it is:

Four Jobs I've Had in My Life

Telemarketer
Tour guide dressed as a the legendary Phoebe Snow for a Scranton tour company
Check-out girl at a grocery store
Receptionist at a day spa

Four Movies I Can Watch Over and Over

Ferris Bueller's Day Off
Dick
Gone in Sixty Seconds
The Chipmunk Adventure

Places I Have Lived

Oakley, California
Tunkhannock, PA
East Benton, PA
East Stroudsburg, PA

Four TV Shows I Love to Watch

Friends
Family Guy
Jeopardy
Next (and I am EXTREMELY ashamed of it.)

Places I Have Been on Vacation

Sierra, Nevada
Florida
Myrtle Beach, North Carolina
California

Websites I Visit Daily

TheUbergeeks
Dooce
Flickr
The Weather Thingie that tells me whether I get to wear a light sweater or a heavy coat

Four of My Favorite Foods

Pineapple and Ham Pizza and Cheesybread from Domino's
Shrimp, noodle, veggie teriyaki garlic goodness from The Eastern
Seafood of any type EXCEPT for mussels
Oreos with milk

Four Places I Would Rather Be Right Now

With the best kids in the whole world - my niece and nephew
Snuggling Ryran
On vacation at a tropical destination somewhere very warm
In my bed, sleeping for a good ten hour stretch

Four Bloggers I Am Tagging

I'm...not. I don't want to tag anyone. This reminds me of the chain letters that I used to get when I was in, like, 5th grade, that threatened me with a life of a hideous old maid if I did not send it to 10 of my friends within the hour.

Only The Hugest Congratulations Ever

2006-01-09T18:50:00.000-08:00

I have big news.

Big. BIG. BIIIIIIIIG news.

Okay, so I know it isn't technically MY news, but it sort of is, and when I was little, I was always the one who had to spread news first. And I guess it sort of stayed with me as I grew up.

Okay...so...

MY ROOMMATE GOT ENGAGED!!!!

I mention it here because it deserves (as the title says) a really super big congratulations.

So here it is: To Tina, who can always find lost items for me, has an endless stock of medicine, feminine hygiene products, batteries, and office supplies that she never holds out, makes me chunky pudding, smushes my head in her ample bosom to comfort me when I'm down, and always smells up the laundry room with a Downy freshness. Also, in a long line of adjectives to describe her: caring, selfless, compassionate, and wonderful.

This is probably my one time to really say how much I appreciate her, and plus, I'm just really emotional lately, so I'll say what I want, beehotches. One time, she took my project ALLLLL the way up to the Fine Arts building even though she didn't need to. And when we left for breaks last year she made little notes for me, little lists, so that I didn't forget anything or forget to unplug electrical devices. And she cooks this chicken in this sauce that is just...WRONG; it's so good. And she always makes me some. And when I spank her bottom, instead of being irritated or indignant, she doesn't miss a beat and calmly asks, "Might I have some more?" And she is super proud of me every week when I write for the crappy Stroud Courier. And she never yells at me or even gets mad at me when I borrow her conditioner, or her scissors, or all of her highlighters, or her Tide (because her Tide is so much easier to use in the big jug with the poury spout thingy), or her socks (they have GOLD TOES!), or her time (which I borrow ALOT)...and I rarely return anything until she comes looking for it. Oh yeah, and she calls me "Sunshine" in the morning.

And she always, always holds my fin, and I love her.

Congratulations. You so deserve that obscenely large, sparkly Leo diamond that is now gracing your hand, and I am the most excited roommate of all time :)

The Handmaid's Tale By Margaret Atwood

2006-01-09T14:12:00.000-08:00

In my opinion (and really, who’s else really matters here?), the utopian/dystopian theme has been waaayyy overdone. For those of you who don’t know exactly what I mean, think 1984, A Brave New World, The Time Machine and, more modernly, The Giver. I have always enjoyed a good dystopian tale, but have found that the good ones are too often lacking anything special. In short: one crappy futuristic society is the same as all the other crappy futuristic societies.

The Handmaid’s Tale added a new spice to the stale taste of this type of novel. The setting year is unknown, however Atwood creates it in a way that feels as though we are reading the story of one person’s last week. It is not a well oiled machine yet – instead, the “government” is still attempting to work out the glitches and get things running smoothly.

In a nutshell, each person has been given rigid social, political, and moral codes that enable them to stay in their designated place in society. Offred, the female narrator/protagonist, speaks of her life before, living in an American city, carrying on as modern American women do. Her new position is, to say the least, harrowing. More than once I got a full force case of, to put it technically, the heebie jeebies. Offred tells her personal tale of being forced into a new society, having her name forsaken with one that begins with “of” followed by a random male name, and living each day in hope that she will conceive a child so as not to be “sent away” as useless. Also, for those of you who are rolling your eyes (or cheering loudly) at the prospect of women in absolute submission, the book is chock full of creepy things like nasty public executions and corporal punishment at its best.

Now, I’m not saying that the whole woman-as-a-baby-machine idea hasn’t been done, but Atwood’s unique narrative paired with a fresh spin on a utopian setting delivers a story that will be flanking Orwell and Huxley for many a decade.

Confessions of an Ugly Stepsister By Gregory Maguire

2006-01-04T09:36:00.000-08:00

Although Maguire has been lately lauded for his books Wicked,
and the December-released Son of a Witch, I found my first experience with him truly disappointing. Maguire’s schtick is somewhat unique: he takes secondary characters in famous fables and tells their personal life stories, attempting to put a new spin on an old tale. The novels are targeted at adults, and since grown-up fairy tales are hard to come by these days, I was very much looking forward to reading his novels.

My friend, Bryce, purchased Wicked: The Life and Times of the Wicked Witch of the West, and I purchased Confessions of an Ugly Stepsister, that way we can swap books. When I began Confessions… I had extremely high hopes, which, as most know, almost always leads to disappointment. However, I choose to believe that even if I had opened the covers not knowing a thing about it, I would have been let down.

The storyline itself – a third-person narrative about the “ugly” stepsister in Cinderella – could possibly work under different circumstances. It breaks the common mold, showing the pains and sufferings of Iris, the “ugly” stepsister, Ruth, the other stepsister, and Clara, the one we call Cinderella. The outline of the classic is there, but the fluff that Cinderella-lovers expect is not. The stepmother is indeed wicked, as the classic tells us, but the three sisters lack what it takes to make us care about their plots in life. Iris is the “fiery, spirited one”, I suppose to make up for her ugliness with personality. Unfortunately, Maguire fails to make us fall in love with anything about her, personality included. Ruth, the other stepsister, is mute and (what we assume to be) mentally challenged. She brings absolutely nothing to the length of the novel. Her character is meant to bring out Iris’ connection and compassion as a sister, but fails for the most part in that regard as well. Clara, our Cinderella counterpart, is nothing short of a selfish, whiny, spoiled brat. That portrayal would be fine if that is how she truly is, but somewhere in the middle of the book Maguire decides to try and make us like her, as though one morning he woke up and thought, “Eh, what the heck. Everyone can feel bad for her too.” Unfortunately, by the time he tries to pull that off, we are far too annoyed at her and disliking her to the point of no return. Moreover, our dislike of her is borderline apathetic.

That said, I will make very clear what I did not like: it bored me to death. The detail, the scenes, the character relationships, all of it: Boring. Many books get off to a very slow start, so I was hesitant to judge early, but then 150 pages crawled by almost painfully, and I realized that I was halfway through the novel and I was still waiting for it to start.

Perhaps Maguire was hoping for a less-glamorous portrayal of a classic story. If this was the case, he managed it, but missed the mark on every other account. Nearing the end of the book, I still did not feel close to any of the characters. Rather, I was just waiting for it to end, not really caring which way the plot went or who ended up where.

I still have yet to read Wicked. I am going to put away my negative thoughts on Maguire’s style and begin Wicked with a clean slate. Hopefully Confessions… was the weakest example of his works.

Welcome 2006!

2006-01-04T09:19:00.000-08:00

Okay so I have been a bad, bad blogger. I write religiously for something like a month, and then I just completely, all-out neglect my blog.

Well that was in sucky '05, and this is Flippin' Sweet '06, so that means that I will write religiously for upwards of two months before pooping out and forgetting about it again.

In any case, I checked out Colin Devroe's 2005 Book Reviews, and I decided that I would very much like to do the same type of thing on here.

I am going to include two books that I read in the last week of December even though they are not technically Books I Read in 2006.

I'd Growl, But It's Uncouth

2005-10-25T15:04:00.000-07:00

Today is a Grouchy Day. I don't just mean it's a run of the mill grumpy day. I mean, I am Oscar, hear me roar. It could be the rain. It could be how pale I am. I don't know.

Congratulations, you just read the shortest, most worthless blog I have ever written.

Please Don't Sponsor Me

2005-10-11T12:42:00.000-07:00

Okay...when did Flickr start this little outreach program?

I just noticed this for the first time this afternoon. Sponsor me? Is Flickr trying to get people to BUY me a pro account? I am absolutely mortified. How embarassing! Why don't they just march on into my classroom and announce to my peers that SALENA doesn't have enough money for the fieldtrip, so if anyone would like to bring in an EXTRA four dollars, that would be a nice "gift," and would make it possible for Salena to not only tour the Crayola Factory but also get a Happy Meal at McDonald's with the rest of the class.

What exactly goes on at Flickr headquarters? Do they give "Free Account" holders six months or so to buy a pro account, and then on the 180th day a little red flag goes up on your name, and they say "Okay, well, she won't do it for herself, so we better get out there and find someone who can do it for her. A SPONSOR, so to speak."

Okay. Maybe I don't want a pro account. Maybe I am content with my limited storage space,despite the fact that I have to carefully pick and choose which of my masterpieces to upload, and errors are not optional. Maybe the idea of unlimited uploading frightens me. Who knows?

Flickr doesn't know. Flickr just went on ahead and begged charity on my behalf. SPONSOR me?? PLEASE. I think that if someone has $24.95 that they wouldn't mind doling out to Flickr for me, they should take the money, surf the net, and find somewhere that could really use it. Like Simply Smiles, or Katrina Care, or some other worthwhile place that could really use the help.

By all means, share it if you have it. Just don't flippin' buy me a pro account. And Flickr...well, this is the first time we've had a fight, so I'll let it slide. But thanks alot for announcing to everyone that I'm too poor to buy myself one of your dumbhead pro accounts. THANKS A BUNCH.

Today We Salute You Obnoxious, Backround Yeller Man

2005-10-04T21:32:00.000-07:00

You know who they are. And if you're one of them, you know who you are. You are the one guy (or in very rare cases, girl) who feels that your entire inner dialogue is an absolute must-hear for the rest of society. No matter the place, situation, or number of weary listeners, you can't help but make constant exclamations on every thought-provoking incident that comes your way.

Today you sat three seats behind me on the shuttle. Yes. You. If you are reading this and you were on the Express shuttle at 11:40 today and everything I am saying is making you comment loudly to your unwilling neighbor about what a "douche" I am, then rest assured, this is about you.

Do you feel that you will somehow make a difference? That your words alone will stand up against the rest of the crowd's silence and bring on a revolution? Or do you just find yourself so hilarious (which you evidently do, judging by the shoulder shrug-head shake-smirk that you follow each of your comments with) that you just MUST share your obvious wit with the rest of us, including the poor shuttle driver.

The poor guy is darned near 70 years old. He doesn't know how to start the new-fangled contraptions that we call Martz buses. All he really wants is a worn-in pair of tighty whities and his recliner. Instead, he has to drive college kids back and forth for six hours at a time, making the same three mile loop continuously.

So imagine how he feels when some irritating little putz spends the entire 3 mile shuttle ride exclaiming loudly (but not directly, of course) "WHY DOES HE HAVE TO TURN HERE? WHY CANT HE JUST DROP US OFF? *SIGGGHHHH* DOES HE EVEN KNOW HOW TO DRIVE A BUS? IS IT, LIKE, ROCKET SCIENCE? WHY DOES HE HAVE TO PICK THESE A**HOLES UP? LET THEM WALK!"

Meanwhile, the rest of the bus, who evidently were not raised in a barn, is absolutely embarassed FOR Mr. Caller Outter, and henceforth tries to even the score with little smiles at the shuttle driver, some loud talking of their own to distract from the nastiness, or just good ol' staring contests with the floor.

Okay. We all know he has to turn there. It's his job. Likewise, picking a**holes up is his job, as is witnessed by the one occupying the seat three rows behind me. Sure, he almost took out a girl on a bike and someone's Toyota, but what do we want? Buses are wide. He does the best he can.

SO LAY OFF HIM. And next time you are seated in the same vicinity as a Backround Yeller, try staring at him continuously, timing your blinks so that they are JUST borderline creepy, and keeping a slight frown on your face. It might not chance his personality, but it'll shut him up for at least a couple of minutes, until he stage whispers to his seat buddy that "some people are such freaks."

"You Can Afford It" and Other Tricksy Insults

2005-09-26T11:16:00.000-07:00

Four years ago Ryan introduced me to the beauty of the backhanded compliment. Prior to him, I had never heard of sneaking an insult into a compliment. Upon my complaining about the oodles (I've now used that word twice in one day) of freckles that plague my face, he sweetly said, "Oh, honers. I love your freckles. A face without freckles is like a sky without pollution."

Picking me up in a hug: "For a skinny chick, you sure are fat."

Discussing his taste in women: "I love you too. For some reason, only really ugly girls fall in love with me."

Fashion: "Those pants are nice, but your ass kind of ruins it."

I quickly learned that the tone is the key. You see, if you distract them with the tone of voice that says "I am paying you a compliment," by the time they think twice about the actual words that came out of your mouth, you're long gone and giggling to yourself miles away.

When you know a person, as I know Ryran, you expect the constant insulting banter. However, the true blow comes when someone completely unexpected suddenly lets loose in a quiet, unassuming manner. Like my roommate Tina. She doesn't insult. Shes a nice girl. Meanness isnt her bag.

So you can imagine my surprise when today, as her and I and Aubrey were discussing Aubrey's illicit use of my sour cream, she made a nasty, tricksy play of her own. Aubrey buys fat-free sour cream. I buy whole fat-full sour cream. Therefore, when Aubrey used mine by "accident" and left me the fat-free one, I was understandably disgruntled.

"FAT-FREE!?" I say. "YOU @#$%*&!"

"I'm SORRY!" Aubrey says.

"You can afford it." Tina says calmly and sweetly.

Hold it. HOLD THE PHONE. My mouth drops open, I stare shocked at Tina.

"I.....I CAN AFFORD IT?" I spit out.

"Wellll," she smiles a bit. "You DO eat like four sticks of butter and ALOT of macaroni and cheese..."

How can I be mad at that? Of course I do. I love mac and cheese. I love butter. I will eat the fat-free sour cream. But next time, Aubrey...NEXT TIME.

YourSpace Sucks

2005-09-26T08:58:00.000-07:00

I've been grateful to Chris a number of times, but never so much as I am right now, as I write this in my Blogger account. You see, not too long ago, I almost made a horrible, irreparable mistake. I finally decided to start a blog, and naturally, I gravitated towards MySpace because it was the only one that I knew about. This next part is hard to admit...

The fact of the matter is, I did register and get a login name. At first I just wanted to see other people's profiles, but then I actually wrote an entry. :( This was a really rough time in my life, and I really regret that moment, but thankfully, Chris staged an intervention before any real damage was done.

Unfortunately, now that I have seen the light, I harbor nasty, uncontrollable resentment for those who habitate on MySpace accounts. I tried to pinpoint my anger, but it was very foreign to me, until finally I realized that I just want to smack every one of the 14-17 year olds who create an account for the sheer purpose of posting slutty pictures and anecdotes that they can be sure their parents will never see. It seems that at least 94% of the female WhoreSpace account holders have exactly the same headlines. In one form or another, they all (and usually in very blatant terms) say, "Look at me! I'm underage and I want everyone to see my skanky pictures in the bathtub so that everyone can tell me I'm hott."

At the moment, I cannot decide which of the two types I hate more. On the one hand, there is Whore Type A, who's headline is "I Love C*ck" and who posts self-taken pictures of her barely pubescent body, with her dresser in the backround adorned with Hello Kitty figurines. Her "blogs" include tales about how much she loves men, making out, and usually (coincidentally)alcohol. On the other hand, Whore Type B makes her headlines "American Sweetie" and then, oops, just randomly has pictures of herself in her bathing suit with cute little captions that look something like: "Me.<3 I know I'm in my bathing suit (in December) but I didn't have any other ones to post up here. tee hee <3 <3"

Barf. I think I'm getting old. I have this horrible impending feeling of oldness. I never used to be so irritated by this, but suddenly I browse through these accounts trying to find one decent girl who doesn't desecrate herself at 14 for the sake of Comments, and I can't.

MySpace is a meatmarket. I hate it. It disguises self-selling of young, insecure girls who are in dire need of self esteem boosters. Which is okay. Its okay to be young and insecure and need self esteem boosters. Its just really tragic to me all of a sudden that the only way they can do this is by getting men to ogle them and tell them how sexually desired they are. It gives me a stomach ache.

Everyone should have their own space to write and express and just rant if they need to. I think that personal blogs are a great way for people to be heard. I just don't think that they need to be seen to be heard, and unfortunately all of those young girls are learning that the only way to be heard is to be seen in a sexual manner.

I don't want to sound self righteous. That isn't what I want at all. I think that being beautiful and feeling that you look attractive has oodles to do with being confident and happy with yourself. I guess, right now, I'm just old and I'm beginning to lose my ability to see the advantage in marketing yourself in such a classless, vulgar way.

MySpace, you should be ashamed of yourself for what you've become.

Goodbye Caroline

2005-09-22T19:49:00.000-07:00

Today I returned Caroline to her other mommy. Her real mommy. I'm pretty much too sad to talk about it, but I figured I should at least mention what a good girl she was. And how empty my purse is now without her tangled earbud cords wrapping themselves around all of my belongings. And how annoyingly quiet the shuttle ride home has become. The worst part is going to the rec alone. She always sat there, keeping me company while I was on the treadmill, and Tubby Tubbies like me need all the help they can get.

This afternoon I packed her up, gathered her usb thingy that makes her get more energy and allows her to live a variety-packed life, and carried her up the two flights of stairs to her real home. I didn't look back. I just set her down and walked away. Its easier that way.

It's A Loooooonnnnng September, and There's Reason To Believe...

2005-09-22T11:51:00.000-07:00

that Fall is just never going to get here. I love Fall. Many people feel that Summer just cannot be long enough. I am not one of those people. Don't get me wrong: I love Summer, sunshine, heat, and long long days. To the untrained eye, I am in love with Summer. But Fall is my mistress.
April through August, I sneeze and my eyes water and I do this horribly obnoxious thing with my nose where I smush the cartiledge in with the palm of my hand until it makes a disgusting *squish squish* noise, alleviating the unstoppable itching.

But then...THEN comes September. The days are B-E-A-UTIFUL, the nights are cool enough for long sleeves, and the air smells like First Day of School. Everyone gets into a whole new mood...school football games and crispiness and snuggly warm blankets outside; bonfires and the smell of burning and crunchy leaves. Ahhhh.

But, lo and behold, it is September 22 and today's high is 83 degrees. 83 is not fuzzy sweater weather. It is not mittens weather. And it sure is not allergen-free, crisp clean air weather. Everyday I go outside and I still smell summer. I don't smell leaves or fireplaces or number 2 pencils.

The sad part is, Fall stays for such a short time, and then my nemesis, Winter, takes over. But oh, that short time is so worth it.

The Better Things Since Sliced Bread

2005-09-15T17:28:00.000-07:00

I know this is a pointless issue, but it's really been bothering me today. In all honestly, WHO coined the phrase "the best thing since sliced bread"? I cannot stand when people use that phrase. What the heck is so wrong with having to cut your own bread? And furthermore, what about the knife? The greatest thing since the knife? People were tearing bread apart like animals before that. Grimy hands ripped off hunks of bread loaves, spreading germs and fingernail dirt and who knows what else. So one day someone invents a slicing machine that chops bread into servable slices, and all of a sudden NOTHING in the history of man is better than that prepackaged slice (pun intended) of genius? Someone invents something amazing and the best compliment a user can give is that it is the best thing since sliced bread?

No. I just don't agree with it. You want to know what a real compliment would be? I'll tell you. If I invented something, and someone said to me, "Wow, Salena, that is the best thing since toilet paper", THAT would be a compliment. THAT would make me feel special.

Apparently, in 1857 this guy Joseph Gayetty (feel free to giggle), decided that instead of continuing to wipe in the popular way, he would invent flat sheets of paper that just sat one on top of another, and could be used at your disposal. Amazingly, his invention "failed". I say amazingly, because prior to this year, people wiped with leaves, moss, coconut shells, corn cobs, discarded sheep wool (later to become known as Charmin), balled up hay, empty CLAM SHELL HALVES, and, most commonly, their left hand.

Thats it. Their left hand. WHICH, I was disturbed to find, is why it is common practice to shake hands with your right hand, because back before toilet paper, everyone wiped with their left hand, "rinsed it off", and it was just flat out rude to greet new acquaintances with your anatomical toilet paper. This point also brings me back to our friend the knife. Might I offer the subtle imagery of 10 people all ripping off chunks of bread with their hands.

In any case, in 1867 (apparently it took ten years to perfect the perforated format that we are accustomed to) the Scott brothers made toilet paper come into play for real, and people stopped using their hands. Ironically enough, in July of this same year, the Harvard School of Dental Medicine opened, and dentists became mainstream. Go figure. Suddenly people don't have poop on their hands, so having them pry around inside your mouth isn't quite as nerve racking.

I kind of got off on a rant, but my point is made. Give a real compliment next time you want to say someone has a cool idea. It doesn't have to be toilet paper, but better things than sliced bread should at least come to mind.

iPods vs iWantToThrowMyMoneyAway

2005-09-12T13:24:00.000-07:00

Recently, I was in the market for an Mp3 player. By "in the market" I mean I don't really have the money to be spending on musical devices, and should be putting the money that I DO have towards slightly more necessary things, like car insurance and toilet paper. However, in my ever-running race against my ass, I have taken up working out at the Rec Center as often as I can (roughly 1.5-2 times a week). In order to motivate myself (and drown out the imaginary laughter that I feel comes from everyone around me), I need music.

My other housemate, Aubrey Lynn, works at Best Buy. She kindly recommended some other choices after telling me quite a few horror stories regarding customers and iPod minis. I finally agreed that spending 100 dollars on a non-Apple Mp3 player was a much wiser choice, and really, what difference did it make? Music was music. As long as it was relatively portable and played music, who cared what brand it was? (See: Causes of disownment, female castration, and live burials.)

On the exact day that I agreed to buy a nameless Mp3, my upstairs neighbor offered to lend me her Mp3 player because it sits on its charger at her parent's house an hour away. We arranged for a 7:00 pm pickup, and at 6:59 I ran out my front door, up the two flights of stairs, and into her apartment.

And there, in all her metallic pink glory was my sweet Caroline. I mean...the iPod mini. We, um...I just call her...IT...by a name to ease her transition into a new environment. Those curves. That touch pad.

I am in love with an iPod mini that belongs to someone else. Is it unrequited? Oh, no. Not at all. My family adores her. My brother-in-law spent all of Sunday getting to know her. Heck, she even keeps me company on the darned shuttle.

Can your Samsung do that? Can your iRiver?

When my trial period ends, and I return Caroline to her other mommy, I will spend the extra $80-100 dollars. It is SO worth it.

Jersey Girls Aint Trash...Oh Wait. Yes They Are.

2005-08-31T19:35:00.000-07:00

One of my three roommates, Tina, is from the one state that is single-handedly responsible for depleting 77% of our ozone. Although I have certainly gained more respect for her as a person, and for Jersey as a state, over the last year, much of that respect went down the crapper this evening.

Before I further with this particular telling, let me describe what my visits to New Jersey have been like: 6 lanes of fairly well-paved highway, apparently 600 cars without blinker lightbulbs, and roughly 30 miles of 15-foot high cement walls that are alledgedly there to muffle the sound of what I am assuming are 600 drivers incapable of controlling their horn-honking reflex.

All that! you say. But wait, there's more! Cops actually hide in shrubbery. Not just their physical person, although that would be hilarious, but their ENTIRE NEW JERSEY STATE TROOPER CARS. I actually had to turn and look behind me the first time I saw it because I glanced in my rear view mirror and saw the front of police cruiser sticking out of this tricksy little shrubbery cove between the highways.

This is all annoying enough, but my real irritation? Gas stations. There I am, pulling up to put gas in my car on my way home. I pull up to the pump, turn my car off, and get out. And apparently people, therein lies the mortal sin. Before I know what is happening, a small man jumps out of a small booth and is yelling at me in broken English: "Back in the car! You in car! Back in car!" I wasn't sure whether to drop to the ground and cover my head or take off running, so I just backed away and slowly got into my driver's seat. This was my first lesson in New Jersey Gas Station Etiquette. Apparently, it is illegal to pump your own gas there. I am assuming this law began because too many serious injuries were occurring due to the sheer combustibility of the female population's heads.

In any case, Tina came into the apartment tonight and casually mentioned that she stopped to get gas, prices are going to soar tomorrow, and oh yeah, she didn't know how to pump her own gas. So, adaptable as she is, she made do. And when she spilled it from the nozzle, she did what any intelligent New Jersey girl would do and attempted to wipe it up with a tissue. Which she left inside her car. I was later informed that she sent Ryan out to retrieve the soiled tissue in desperate fear that "it might combust."

If there was a sighing smiley, I could sure use it right now.

If You Have to Say "That's Funny," It Probably Isn't

2005-08-31T18:42:00.000-07:00

On my shuttle ride home today, I sat across from three girls. Though I tried to concentrate on the disgruntled driver, I couldn't help but overhear the constant chatter of one girl in particular. She was apparently telling the other girls a very long winded story that, eventually, ended with her laughing out, "And he didn't even have the car in the first place! Oh my god, isn't that funny?" To which Girl Listener #1 said, "Wow. That is funny." And Girl #2 said, "That's so funny."

Neither #1 nor #2 was laughing. Perhaps it was a "had-to-be-there" story. Or maybe Storyteller Girl just had horrible delivery. In any case, it occurred to me, as I gripped the virus-ridden metal bar, that if ever you hear someone say in reply to your end of the conversation "That's funny," chances are it is hardly more than a painful listening experience for anyone other than you.

Afterall, how often do you watch a comedian on stage (even if its just on Comedy Central) and hear the audience calmly calling out, "That's so funny!" When someone spurts out a clever bit of hilarity, do you respond to it by pointing and exclaiming, "Now THAT is funny"?

No, certainly not. If all goes as should, a semi-loud sound should be emmitting from your mouth at various lengths and pitches. The only individuals, in my book, who can get away with using the phrase "That's funny" are Eliza Devroe and mobsters. The former is able to use the phrase sweetly and genuinely, and it comes out sounding neither lame nor fake, but, in fact, cute as a button. The latter can make proper usage accompanied by a shrug of the shoulders, right before they pop two into your chest and one between the eyes (for good measure and for that comment you made a few weeks ago about his mother's baked ziti).

So laugh, for Pete's sake. And if you get through telling what you consider your best comedic experience, and someone smiles and says "That's funny", apologize and remember not to force it down anyone else's throat in the future.

Walmart Runs

2005-08-28T15:08:00.000-07:00

Today I went to Walmart for what I believe to be the third time in five days. The danger with Walmart is that they get you with their careful aisle blending skills. Aisle blending skills?, you say. Yes. You run in for your routine bread, eggs, and 2 boxes of Velveeta Shells and Cheese , and as your hand grazes the carton of eggs, you notice their Tricksy Display.

The Tricksy Display, for those of you who don't know, is the stack of shelves that Walmart employees periodically change so that it always has new and all too intriguing items dangling right in front of our face, and ironically enough, two feet from the egg area. So thats where it starts. You wander over to the Tricksy Display. You fondle the new items, and then BAM you're outside the Food realm and into No Man's Land. Once you're in No Man's Land, the Walmart spell takes over, and you suddenly remember that you DO need that apple corer. And better dental floss. And socks. So by the time you reach the Check Out register, and the woman scans the neon green day planner, twelve pack of bottled water, and Velvet Rose candle, your bill reaches somewhere around $115.00. That, my friends, is the danger of Walmart.

Holy Sheet

2005-08-27T05:44:00.000-07:00

After 8 hours in my new bed, I discovered the gift that keeps on giving: Bed Bath and Beyond Pure Beech Jersey Sheets. If you have never slept in luxury, it is about time. And if you have slept in luxury, put away your foolish ideas of what good feels like and slip into heaven. I have never slept better in my entire life. Just turning over is like the best present ever. So, if you're going to be getting married, starting college, moving into a new house, or if its a random Wednesday and I really like you, you can know what to expect as my gift to you.

In other news, I moved into my new apartment this week. Its kind of bare and messy and the walls are what I like to call a "Antique Watered Down Crappy Mess" but other than that I really like it. Pictures will be up at some point.

Oh, if you haven't seen the amazingly picturesque pictures of everyone's (not me included) trip to the West Coast, take a peeksy.

School starts in 2 days :)

Holy Crap, Its Been Awhile

2005-05-17T19:04:00.000-07:00

And I was doing so well for that one week.

So anyway, long time, no writing. Schools out, works in, its almost summer time but really not that warm out yet.

Today I drywalled for the first time ever. Ryan labeled me "Greenhorn" and then spent the next 8 hours taking out screws from all the places that I missed the beams and cleaning up my glue messes. It was fun and tomorrow I shall try again.

Yesterday Bryce and me and Poo went to NYC for the day. We walked (under Bryce's calculations) 107 blocks and went to Central Park. I rode a subway for the first time and I don't think I enjoy it. The Museum of Natural History was closed, and I almost sat down and cried but Poo wouldn't even let me touch the railings going down the stairwell so I was too afraid to sit anywhere. I saw Jerry Seinfeld and a man dressed in fishnets and a mini skirt. I mean, they weren't together. They were their own seperate persons, I was just making note.

Ryan broke the bowling record. He slaughtered it actually, with a 214 so now it is so on. If I wasn't so happy for him I would be stark raving mad.

Thats pretty much all for the past month. I'm going to make a real effort to keep up with this at least a couple times a week.

April Showers Brings May Flowers

2005-04-02T20:37:00.000-08:00

What a great weekend so far. Maroon 5 was SWEEEEET. The drive to and from was pretty miserable, but only because it was stop and go Philly traffic, and rain, and me getting car sick in the back seat. The Donnas opened. Note to self and everyone considering ever listening to them: THEY SUCK.

I had no work this weekend at all, which was so nice to sleep in until noon like other fat lards that I know. When I finally did wake up, I discovered that we are in the midst of torrential rain fall. I was outside about 10 minutes ago and it seems like it finally tapered off and the air is all warm and rainy-soggy grass smelling. It rained literally all day long, but thats just fine with me because warm rain means its not snowing, and not snowing means a happy Tubby.

Its April, which means I can finally post my new pictures on Flickr, so check My Picture Page for updates.

3 Days til I turn 20!!!
9 Days til Bowling for Soup!!!
4 Weeks of School!!!

Update: Um yeah. Work called at 11:15 Sunday morning to let me know that I was on the schedule and I needed to be there in half an hour. Greeeat.

I Can Almost Smell the Grass Clippings

2005-03-30T08:52:00.000-08:00

It is just about 5 degrees short of PERFECT weather today. Blue skies, sunshine that actually produces heat and isn't just decorative, doggies running around on the quad, people playing catch, and no one going to class. SPRING IS HERE! And, the most wonderful part is that it seems that for the second year in a row, I will not have the debilitating allergies that plagued the first 17 years of my life.

I am completely bogged down with school work. Research papers, group projects, journal entries. Blech. Too much to do. So rather than buckling down, I'm writing in here.

I am highly disappointed in my Flickr account. I have so many pictures to put up, and I have to wait until the next "calendar month" for my upload counter to reset to zero. Darn free things. And no, I cannot buy the membership because I currently owe $250. For what you say? For a moderately nice digital camera? For an entire spring wardrobe? For new brakes? NO. For flippin ESU issued parking tickets. I swear, they strive to get you without lube.

Also, I want everyone to try something new and listen to Amos Lee. I lucked out and heard some coffee shop tragics talking about his appearance on Leno the other night, came home to find he got 3 and 1/2 stars on The Music Box, and gave it a listen. Wow. Amazingly beautiful voice. His style is definitely bluesy, and I will admit that I didn't like the twang of "Bottom of the Barrel", but after listening to it all afternoon I am definitely a fan. "Colors" and "All My Friends" are probably the most listenable. I promise you won't fall in love at first listen, but I can really see him going the ways of Gavin Degraw and Jack Johnson.

Maroon Five in TWO DAYS!!!!!! Bowling for Soup in 12 Days!! What a happy, musical month.

Its Dollar Game Night

2005-03-28T16:15:00.000-08:00

Monday nights beckons to the cheapest of the cheap for one reason alone--Dollar Games at the Wind Gap bowling alley. That and beer. Beer beckons too, I guess. Last week Poo had the biggest lucky streak of his life and beat me not once, but TWICE. Our final game was 141 to 91. Yeah. You see that right. It was a 50-point whoopin. Tonight, thankfully, I can already feel my bowling groove coming on. So no more of that.

Monday also means that the 5 day countdown has finally begun for MAROON FIVE! Friday night, that is where I will be. Woooo Hooooooo!

So I got this really neat thing today called iTunes. Some people are familiar with it, but for me, wow. That is just the work of a higher force right there. Do you know that I just double click on the icon, and this whole thing pops up and then I can see and LISTEN TO all the music from all the people on this floor who have iTunes? It is amazing. I retract my "I Hate Technology" statement from last week.

4 Days til Maroon Five

Update:
Poo took the house with an unbelievable , Timmy-record breaking 177!!!.

Fortunately, no one can claim fame til they beat my all time best of 196 or Ryran's all time best at the least (193).

A Very Peeky Weekend

2005-03-26T13:28:00.000-08:00

So it was a working weekend, but super good news: Not only did I get a raise, but I got guaranteed awesome 9-3 summer hours. I just put in an application at Siamsa Irish Pub too, so maybe they'll call next week.

Came home to find out the best surprise of all: Peeky was coming over!! YAY! She loves her uncles soooo much.

In other news, I cannot believe that we only have 30 SCHOOL DAYS LEFT before the end of this school year! That means that its going to be summer break soon, which means that it will be August soon, which means that I WILL MOVE INTO MY NEW APARTMENT. Move in day is August 22 :)

So I have a 5 minute speech and a 10 page paper all due Monday. I should probably get a start on that.

Oh yeah. Best part of the day (besides being with all my lovies all day) is that we get to finish off the evening with Sarah Street. Mmmmmm wings and beer battered fries. Mmmmm num num.

Oh Please Not Monday

2005-03-20T20:10:00.000-08:00

How can tomorrow be school already? I do NOT want to give my speech. In fact, I don't want to go to school at all tomorrow. I want to sleep in my bed indefinitely.

I got to see the babies all weekend. And then we mashed the families together and Blake and Ava spent a couple hours together wrestling on the carpet. She is a beast, but he needs a good beating once in a while. Pictures will be up as soon as I figure out how to do that.

The Grudge is on, but I think I'm too scared to watch it, so I'm going to bed.

2005-03-20T10:35:00.000-08:00

I Think I Hate Technology

2005-03-18T21:14:00.000-08:00

Someone bullied me into having a "cool" blog page, and so I listened to him, and for the next 4 hours I attempted to load one picture in. I pretty much wanted to yank my own hair out, but since I have nice hair, I took a break, ate some Sour Patch Kids, and made him fix it, and now I can write things.

Yay.