This, ladies and gentlemen, is why my cousin Kate really is cooler than me. I'm sitting here posting about chocolate and Ugg boots, while she perfectly recalls some of the best times of our lives. Lake Wisconsin Vacations.
Fantastic post Kate.
Saturday, March 31, 2007
Tuesday, March 20, 2007
Mmmm...Chocolate
An extra special glimpse into the mind of women...or at least this woman.
To say that a woman's mood can be highly relient upon chocolate and/or desserts and/or Mike and Ike's (any candy of similar substance) is NOT, I repeat, NOT a stereotype. It is a fact.
That is all.
To say that a woman's mood can be highly relient upon chocolate and/or desserts and/or Mike and Ike's (any candy of similar substance) is NOT, I repeat, NOT a stereotype. It is a fact.
That is all.
Thursday, March 08, 2007
Uh oh...
Cleaning must commence...2 days ago!
Kenric is coming to visit the STC and much cleaning needs to occur in order for me not to get shot by my mother (love you mom!). In a house of 6 people, 4 dogs (yes I'm including Mr. Stan...he's here all the time anyways), 3 cats, a guinea pig, and a partridge in a pear tree, cleaning is no small task. It's actually very overwhelming and so instead of actually cleaning I keep doing things slightly related to the task...
1) Make a list of what needs to be cleaned
2) Take an inventory of cleaning supplies
3) Blog about needing to clean
4) Stare off into space thinking about cleaning
In other related news...
Dear family members,
Feel free to stop by at any time this weekend. You would not believe the ambush I received upon entering his house last weekend. Retaliation is only fair. Come in hoards.
Love,
Bridget
Kenric is coming to visit the STC and much cleaning needs to occur in order for me not to get shot by my mother (love you mom!). In a house of 6 people, 4 dogs (yes I'm including Mr. Stan...he's here all the time anyways), 3 cats, a guinea pig, and a partridge in a pear tree, cleaning is no small task. It's actually very overwhelming and so instead of actually cleaning I keep doing things slightly related to the task...
1) Make a list of what needs to be cleaned
2) Take an inventory of cleaning supplies
3) Blog about needing to clean
4) Stare off into space thinking about cleaning
In other related news...
Dear family members,
Feel free to stop by at any time this weekend. You would not believe the ambush I received upon entering his house last weekend. Retaliation is only fair. Come in hoards.
Love,
Bridget
Monday, February 26, 2007
Group Projects Part 2
It's that time of year again! Group project time! Do we remember how much I love Group Projects? Love them. I love them with a passion likened only to the wonderful sensation of sandpaper rubbing against my skin. I'm glad to see that no matter what class I'm in, nothing changes. It's good to have consistency. It's something I can depend on. I can depend that if there are incompetent, unmotivated people in my class I will most definitely be grouped up with them to complete a lengthy project. Fantastic. My current group might just top the charts.
Email sent out...
Hey guys-
We need to do that 470 project. For those of you who can make it, we're going to meet at the library at 9pm. We'll meet up at the circulation desk and go from there.
-Bridget
That's pretty clear right? Nothing too confusing? I enter the library at 8:55pm through the basement which is actually just a lounge area with a food court/Starbucks where people can socialize and eat. As I'm cutting through this area to head upstairs to the actual library part and the circulation desk I see two members of my group sitting at a table eating nachos. I figured they were just finishing up dinner before our meeting so I head over to say hello, and insanity ensues...
Me: "Hi guys."
Idiot #1: "Oh good, you're here!"
Me: "Uh...yeah."
Idiot #2: "We didn't know what the circum...whatever was."
Idiot #1: "Yeah, so we decided to just meet down here and hope you found us."
Me: "The circulation desk?"
Idiot #2: "Yeah! That's it!"
Me: Are you kidding me?! "Well, that's the desk you check your books out at."
Idiot #1 (3rd year in school...at least): "I've never done that."
Me: Remain calm. Don't hit him. Breathe. Why would I even look for you down here, this isn't even the actual library?! "Well this table isn't going to work."
Idiots: "Wha...?"
Me: Smaller words, talk slower. "There...are....five...people...in...this...group. You...are...at...a...table...for...four."
Idiot #1: Well I didn't see anything else.
Me: *Looks across the room and sees 5 different tables that would work* SERIOUSLY? "Well let me take a look and see what I can find." IDIOTS! *Returns five seconds later* "Ok, my backpack is on that one over there, go ahead and head over. I'm going to go get the others...the one's who actually know what a circulation desk is."
Idiots: *While staring directly at the table with my backpack...the only open table with a giant backpack sitting on it* "Which one?"
Me: Just walk away. No, murdering someone with a plastic knife is not a good idea.
Email sent out...
Hey guys-
We need to do that 470 project. For those of you who can make it, we're going to meet at the library at 9pm. We'll meet up at the circulation desk and go from there.
-Bridget
That's pretty clear right? Nothing too confusing? I enter the library at 8:55pm through the basement which is actually just a lounge area with a food court/Starbucks where people can socialize and eat. As I'm cutting through this area to head upstairs to the actual library part and the circulation desk I see two members of my group sitting at a table eating nachos. I figured they were just finishing up dinner before our meeting so I head over to say hello, and insanity ensues...
Me: "Hi guys."
Idiot #1: "Oh good, you're here!"
Me: "Uh...yeah."
Idiot #2: "We didn't know what the circum...whatever was."
Idiot #1: "Yeah, so we decided to just meet down here and hope you found us."
Me: "The circulation desk?"
Idiot #2: "Yeah! That's it!"
Me: Are you kidding me?! "Well, that's the desk you check your books out at."
Idiot #1 (3rd year in school...at least): "I've never done that."
Me: Remain calm. Don't hit him. Breathe. Why would I even look for you down here, this isn't even the actual library?! "Well this table isn't going to work."
Idiots: "Wha...?"
Me: Smaller words, talk slower. "There...are....five...people...in...this...group. You...are...at...a...table...for...four."
Idiot #1: Well I didn't see anything else.
Me: *Looks across the room and sees 5 different tables that would work* SERIOUSLY? "Well let me take a look and see what I can find." IDIOTS! *Returns five seconds later* "Ok, my backpack is on that one over there, go ahead and head over. I'm going to go get the others...the one's who actually know what a circulation desk is."
Idiots: *While staring directly at the table with my backpack...the only open table with a giant backpack sitting on it* "Which one?"
Me: Just walk away. No, murdering someone with a plastic knife is not a good idea.
CUBBIES!
The Official Site of The Chicago Cubs: Homepage
Ladies and gentlemen....SPRING TRAINING STARTS THIS WEEK!
Ladies and gentlemen....SPRING TRAINING STARTS THIS WEEK!
Friday, February 23, 2007
Sleep or lack there of
I woke up at 4am this morning. It is now 2am the next morning. I haven't even taken a nap. That's 22 hrs of being awake folks. 22 hrs of being awake, and not one thing to blog about. Hmmm. I should go to bed.
Should I mention the all nighter I pulled the night before?
It's almost the weekend!
Should I mention the all nighter I pulled the night before?
It's almost the weekend!
Tuesday, February 20, 2007
Uggs = Pandemic
Ok so I know I keep mentioning Ugg boots, but I can't help it. People bring this stuff to me. I would be able to ignore the epidemic or perhaps by now it's more of a pandemic, but no. It's like I've got Uggs spies. I get phone calls, emails, and even pictures. And darn it...I love it. I love hearing your Ugg boot sightings. Uggs are being spotted across the country. I knew they ran ramped up here in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan, but I had no idea they had overtaken my homeland of Illinois and now even Colorado. Here are two of the most recent updates I have received:
1) Uggs on Ice (Champaign/Urbana, IL)
Kate phoned me two weeks ago to report a most amusing scenario. As she strolled the icy campus of U of I, she found herself walking behind what I can only define as an Ugg Hoard.
[Ugg Hoard (noun): A group of two or more individuals wearing Ugg boots, who only allow other Ugg boot wearing individuals to be walking within 10 feet of them. These individuals have not fully embraced their Uggs enough to be comfortable wearing them all on their own, so they recruit other Ugg boot wearing individuals to surround them. Safety in numbers.]
For some reason they were sliding all over the place in their Uggs...I can't imagine why that would be. In frustration one of the girls finally exclaimed, "STUPID UGGS! This is what they were supposed to be made for!" Really? Is that the purpose of Uggs? Ice walking? I guess it make sense considering their excellent treads. And all of this time I thought it was just because they looked amazing on people. Especially when someone tucks khakis into them. That's hot.
2) Uggs Crossing Gender Lines (Denver, CO)
My sister and and her husband Tom are currently in Colorado. It seems the entire population has embraced Ugg boots, MEN and women alike. And why not? We already know they are excellent for icy conditions, why not apply that ingenious engineering to a mountainous terrain?
And I knew it was only a matter of time before men fell victim to this fashion craze. Everything about the Ugg screams masculinity. Deep down inside I think men the world over have just been waiting for the perfect shoe they could tuck their jeans into. The cowboy boot certainly doesn't allow for such a thing, nor does the steel toe boot or sneaker. Finally with Uggs those pesky jeans can be properly confined so scorpions and other such hazardous creatures can't crawl up one's pant leg.
1) Uggs on Ice (Champaign/Urbana, IL)
Kate phoned me two weeks ago to report a most amusing scenario. As she strolled the icy campus of U of I, she found herself walking behind what I can only define as an Ugg Hoard.
[Ugg Hoard (noun): A group of two or more individuals wearing Ugg boots, who only allow other Ugg boot wearing individuals to be walking within 10 feet of them. These individuals have not fully embraced their Uggs enough to be comfortable wearing them all on their own, so they recruit other Ugg boot wearing individuals to surround them. Safety in numbers.]
For some reason they were sliding all over the place in their Uggs...I can't imagine why that would be. In frustration one of the girls finally exclaimed, "STUPID UGGS! This is what they were supposed to be made for!" Really? Is that the purpose of Uggs? Ice walking? I guess it make sense considering their excellent treads. And all of this time I thought it was just because they looked amazing on people. Especially when someone tucks khakis into them. That's hot.
2) Uggs Crossing Gender Lines (Denver, CO)
My sister and and her husband Tom are currently in Colorado. It seems the entire population has embraced Ugg boots, MEN and women alike. And why not? We already know they are excellent for icy conditions, why not apply that ingenious engineering to a mountainous terrain?
And I knew it was only a matter of time before men fell victim to this fashion craze. Everything about the Ugg screams masculinity. Deep down inside I think men the world over have just been waiting for the perfect shoe they could tuck their jeans into. The cowboy boot certainly doesn't allow for such a thing, nor does the steel toe boot or sneaker. Finally with Uggs those pesky jeans can be properly confined so scorpions and other such hazardous creatures can't crawl up one's pant leg.
Ugg boots appear to be the solution to so many of life's problems. Maybe I should jump on the band wagon...
MAYBE NOT.
Saturday, January 27, 2007
Pardon me, but you look ridiculous
I think I've made it clear that I take Ugg boot wearing as a serious offense. Many of my friends, however, have these retched shoes, and I'm able to overlook it.
Today my older sister informed me of a situation I cannot overlook.
While visiting an indoor water park Aimee came across a most peculiar sight. An 18 year old female on the pool deck fashioning a teeny tiny bikini. Of course this is not abnormal in this day and age, but wait, I'm not finished. A top of this bikini she wore a winter jacket (unzipped), a short jacket with fur lining the hood. To add insanity to madness, this bright young lady was also sporting Ugg boots. Approximate temperature on pool deck: 70 degrees.
Which leads to the all important question: What thought process leads to such a display?
*In Hotel room preparing to go downstairs to the pool*
Hmmm. What to wear? What...to...wear? A tiny string bikini! Yes that's it! It is completely useless and will probably fall apart should I actually end up in the water, but darn it, I'll look good.
*Glances out window*
Oh my gosh! Is it snowing? In January? Really? Hmmm. Better take a coat. I'll just take this short one here and not zip it up so the world can still see my amazing suit. I'd like to parade around the pool deck, but it's always so wet. I wouldn't want to dampen my toes. Shoes. Yes shoes would be perfect.
*Opens closet*
Flip flops...no, those are summer shoes, it's January.
Tennis shoes...no, I'm not trying to get a work out in here.
Uggs...oh my gosh! Yes that's perfect. I mean, it is snowing out after all!
It is fortunate that I was not present for this spectacle. Had I come across this unique individual on the pool deck I probably wouldn't have been able to avoid pulling her aside and saying, "Pardon me, but you look ridiculous."
Today my older sister informed me of a situation I cannot overlook.
While visiting an indoor water park Aimee came across a most peculiar sight. An 18 year old female on the pool deck fashioning a teeny tiny bikini. Of course this is not abnormal in this day and age, but wait, I'm not finished. A top of this bikini she wore a winter jacket (unzipped), a short jacket with fur lining the hood. To add insanity to madness, this bright young lady was also sporting Ugg boots. Approximate temperature on pool deck: 70 degrees.
Which leads to the all important question: What thought process leads to such a display?
*In Hotel room preparing to go downstairs to the pool*
Hmmm. What to wear? What...to...wear? A tiny string bikini! Yes that's it! It is completely useless and will probably fall apart should I actually end up in the water, but darn it, I'll look good.
*Glances out window*
Oh my gosh! Is it snowing? In January? Really? Hmmm. Better take a coat. I'll just take this short one here and not zip it up so the world can still see my amazing suit. I'd like to parade around the pool deck, but it's always so wet. I wouldn't want to dampen my toes. Shoes. Yes shoes would be perfect.
*Opens closet*
Flip flops...no, those are summer shoes, it's January.
Tennis shoes...no, I'm not trying to get a work out in here.
Uggs...oh my gosh! Yes that's perfect. I mean, it is snowing out after all!
It is fortunate that I was not present for this spectacle. Had I come across this unique individual on the pool deck I probably wouldn't have been able to avoid pulling her aside and saying, "Pardon me, but you look ridiculous."
Friday, January 19, 2007
Self Help
Dear Self,
I know that you're tired and sleep deprived. I realize that you just made the 7 1/2 hour trip between Illinois and Marquette 3 times in the last five days, and that you endured a 5 hour interview process in which you actually had to converse with strangers, but you need to find a different form of energy. It is ill advised to completely switch your diet over to caffeinated pop, cappuccinos, and Mike and Ikes just to remain awake during the day. Believe it or not, there is very little nutritional value associated with these recent staples in your life. If you're wondering why your stomach has been so upset lately and why you've been walking around shaking like a crack fiend, I'm going to go out on a limb and say the intense sugar intake might have something to do with it. I am certainly not trying to dispute the fact that the combination of Mountain Dew and Mike and Ikes is an excellent way to stay awake when driving late at night, but I am saying that somewhere a line needs to be drawn. I'm worried about you kid. Take a break. Sleep in tomorrow. Eat something with substance (like pizza). In the future if you're getting tired while driving, roll down the window and stick your head out. Yes I realize it's below freezing and that you drive at an alarming speed, but at least your stomach will be happy.
As long as we're hammering out your issues here, let me address this other thing that has been bothering me. I don't like your relationship with Mike and Ike. I think it's borderline obsessive. I know you don't get to enjoy them very often, but seriously. I'm concerned with the crazy gleam you get in your eye everytime you remember that you still have some left over from your recent trip. Don't think I didn't notice the tears welling up in your eyes earlier today when you bit into that little red one after you had left the box out to freeze in your truck all night. You nearly broke your tooth on that thing, and yet you sucked on it until it was in a chewable state. And yes, I did see how you then took a handful out and held on tight to them for the next five minutes, thawing them in your fist. You may not have minded the sticky residue, but I did. This is unhealthy. Let them go. Find real friends...Sour Patch Kids don't count.
Love,
Yourself
I know that you're tired and sleep deprived. I realize that you just made the 7 1/2 hour trip between Illinois and Marquette 3 times in the last five days, and that you endured a 5 hour interview process in which you actually had to converse with strangers, but you need to find a different form of energy. It is ill advised to completely switch your diet over to caffeinated pop, cappuccinos, and Mike and Ikes just to remain awake during the day. Believe it or not, there is very little nutritional value associated with these recent staples in your life. If you're wondering why your stomach has been so upset lately and why you've been walking around shaking like a crack fiend, I'm going to go out on a limb and say the intense sugar intake might have something to do with it. I am certainly not trying to dispute the fact that the combination of Mountain Dew and Mike and Ikes is an excellent way to stay awake when driving late at night, but I am saying that somewhere a line needs to be drawn. I'm worried about you kid. Take a break. Sleep in tomorrow. Eat something with substance (like pizza). In the future if you're getting tired while driving, roll down the window and stick your head out. Yes I realize it's below freezing and that you drive at an alarming speed, but at least your stomach will be happy.
As long as we're hammering out your issues here, let me address this other thing that has been bothering me. I don't like your relationship with Mike and Ike. I think it's borderline obsessive. I know you don't get to enjoy them very often, but seriously. I'm concerned with the crazy gleam you get in your eye everytime you remember that you still have some left over from your recent trip. Don't think I didn't notice the tears welling up in your eyes earlier today when you bit into that little red one after you had left the box out to freeze in your truck all night. You nearly broke your tooth on that thing, and yet you sucked on it until it was in a chewable state. And yes, I did see how you then took a handful out and held on tight to them for the next five minutes, thawing them in your fist. You may not have minded the sticky residue, but I did. This is unhealthy. Let them go. Find real friends...Sour Patch Kids don't count.
Love,
Yourself
Thursday, January 11, 2007
Jokers
DISCLAIMER: The following post was forced upon me by the very two people in which the content focuses on. I attempted to warn them that a blog focused on the eradication of idiots is not something you want to be the headliner on. I was ignored. I was begged. “Please blog about us Bridget! It will be funny,” they said, again and again. So I finally broke down. Everything that will be said and any pictures that might be displayed are done so with the expressed consent and encouragement from the so called victims. That is all.
To start us off, let me paint a picture.
10am. New Years day. Bridget passed out in bed with the book she fell asleep while reading lying open next to her. Bridget began her reading after all her guests left the house and she went well into early hours of the morning reading. Bridget’s foreseen awakening time: 12pm.
Beep. Beep. (Text Message Alert)
Exhausted Bridget rolls over to look at clock. 9:58am. Who the hell?
“One new message from: Megan. ‘Colonial for breakfast?’”
No money, must sleep. Phone flips shut without replying (mistake). Bridget returns to sleep.
Ring….ring…ring…
Exhausted Bridget rolls over to look at clock. 10:01am. Ugh Laura!
Groggy Bridget flips open cell phone to see “Laura” type across screen.
Phone flips shut. Bridget returns to sleep.
Beep. Beep.
Exhausted Bridget rolls over to look at clock. 10:02am. I hate you both!
“One new message from: Laura. ‘Wake up we are hungry. Let’s get food.”
No money, must sleep. Phone flips shut without replying. Bridget returns to sleep.
**Time out. You’re probably thinking, “Idiot! Why didn’t you just shut off your phone?” Answer: I was expecting an important phone call. Or perhaps you are thinking, “Why didn’t you just answer the phone and tell them no?” Answer: Answering the phone will lead to only one thing: giving up, waking up, and meeting them for the breakfast that I can’t afford. Megan and Laura do not take no for an answer. In fact, had I answered the phone, I have a feeling that they would continue to call knowing I was semi awake and not cease in their attempts at communication until I agreed to go. Time in**
Ring….ring…ring…
Exhausted Bridget rolls over to look at clock. 10:06am. Ugh Megan!
Groggy Bridget flips open cell phone to see “Megan” typed across screen.
Phone flips shut. Bridget returns to sleep.
Ring…ring…ring…
Exhausted Bridget rolls over to look at clock. 10:07am. Noooo Laura!
Groggy Bridget flips open cell phone to see “Laura” typed across screen.
Phone flips shut. Bridget returns to sleep.
Beep. Beep.
Exhausted and irritated Bridget rolls over to look at clock. 10:11am. Reoccurring Nightmare.
“One new message from: Laura. ‘Colonial!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!’
Noooooooooooo! Phone flips shut without replying. Bridget returns to sleep.
Who are these people?
This is Megan and Laura and they believe that if they each alternate calling me in rapid fire then the chance of their call being answered will increase. This is a false notion. They are my close friends from home believe it or not, and I affectionately refer to them as The Jokers. It is useless to refer to them as two separate individuals because that’s just simply not how they function. Megan and Laura have merged into one solid unit of jokerness. For those of you not familiar with this whole concept of being a joker, I will use Megan and Laura to help educate you. Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you the top 25 ways you know that you are a joker.
You know you’re a joker when…
25)…a canister of Play-Doh brings on fits of laughter.
24)…you believe you are a princess and are therefore entitled to everything you want when you want it.
19)…seeing someone in a giant Winnie the Pooh costume causes you to turn bright red with excitement and screech “WINNIE THE POOH!”
18)…you wear Ugg boots.
17)…you have to call your best friend up at least once a week to remind her that you are indeed best friends.
16)…you place an open can of beer in your brand new purse because you’re “saving it for later!”
15)…you actually enjoy listening to Ashlee Simpson.
14)…you were surprised and disappointed to find that Lance Bass is gay.
13)…you lack the common sense to know that police officers wouldn’t really call you on your cell phone to say that they know you’re inside someone’s house partying and that they are waiting outside to arrest you.
12)…all of your hair color decisions are based upon the hair color of your joker best friend.
11)…the joke, “Aren’t you two a cute couple,” will never get old to you.
10)…every time you eat a meal you eat to the point where you are so full that eating becomes painful and causes you to make noises such as, “Ugh! Ahhh! Ow! Oh!” as well as make loud long sighs, and then you continue to eat more food.
9)…your accomplishments in your sorority/fraternity are the crowning achievements in your life.
8)…you are deaf to a degree which ensures that everything said during a conversation will have to be repeated for your sake.
7)…you are proud of the POS stereo that occupies your entire trunk and has been broken for several years. You somehow assume that turning it up will drown out the strange noises it emits, therefore causing your backseat passengers to become as deaf as you are.
6)…you self appoint yourself as the minion of your best friend
5)…you attempt to court your best friend’s older brother when drunk.
4)…you show your two other friends how much you value their friendship by inviting them over for a costume party so you can point and laugh at them as they walk in dressed as an oompa loompa and scarecrow, taking pleasure in the horrified look on their face when greeted by your costumeless entourage.
3)…instead of exchanging Christmas presents like normal people you tell your best friend that you’ve developed a new game in which she takes you shopping, you tell her to try to guess what you want (giving her extremely helpful hints) and then when she finally comes to the right decision you send her to the checkout to buy it for you.
2)…you go to Disneyworld and spend as much time as possible in the dingy hotel room which you hate, and that you’ve spent the last month describing as disgusting and low class, making your other two friends (who, unlike you, had to pay for the trip with their own money) feel guilty about not being able to afford something classy enough to please you. Also, while wasting away your time and parent’s money in said hotel room, you decide it would be fun to make the room appear as though a tampon machine exploded in the middle of the room conveniently sending tampons sailing all over the belongings of the only male on the trip.
1)…you actually requested to be the subject of one of Bridget’s blog posts.
To start us off, let me paint a picture.
10am. New Years day. Bridget passed out in bed with the book she fell asleep while reading lying open next to her. Bridget began her reading after all her guests left the house and she went well into early hours of the morning reading. Bridget’s foreseen awakening time: 12pm.
Beep. Beep. (Text Message Alert)
Exhausted Bridget rolls over to look at clock. 9:58am. Who the hell?
“One new message from: Megan. ‘Colonial for breakfast?’”
No money, must sleep. Phone flips shut without replying (mistake). Bridget returns to sleep.
Ring….ring…ring…
Exhausted Bridget rolls over to look at clock. 10:01am. Ugh Laura!
Groggy Bridget flips open cell phone to see “Laura” type across screen.
Phone flips shut. Bridget returns to sleep.
Beep. Beep.
Exhausted Bridget rolls over to look at clock. 10:02am. I hate you both!
“One new message from: Laura. ‘Wake up we are hungry. Let’s get food.”
No money, must sleep. Phone flips shut without replying. Bridget returns to sleep.
**Time out. You’re probably thinking, “Idiot! Why didn’t you just shut off your phone?” Answer: I was expecting an important phone call. Or perhaps you are thinking, “Why didn’t you just answer the phone and tell them no?” Answer: Answering the phone will lead to only one thing: giving up, waking up, and meeting them for the breakfast that I can’t afford. Megan and Laura do not take no for an answer. In fact, had I answered the phone, I have a feeling that they would continue to call knowing I was semi awake and not cease in their attempts at communication until I agreed to go. Time in**
Ring….ring…ring…
Exhausted Bridget rolls over to look at clock. 10:06am. Ugh Megan!
Groggy Bridget flips open cell phone to see “Megan” typed across screen.
Phone flips shut. Bridget returns to sleep.
Ring…ring…ring…
Exhausted Bridget rolls over to look at clock. 10:07am. Noooo Laura!
Groggy Bridget flips open cell phone to see “Laura” typed across screen.
Phone flips shut. Bridget returns to sleep.
Beep. Beep.
Exhausted and irritated Bridget rolls over to look at clock. 10:11am. Reoccurring Nightmare.
“One new message from: Laura. ‘Colonial!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!’
Noooooooooooo! Phone flips shut without replying. Bridget returns to sleep.
Who are these people?
This is Megan and Laura and they believe that if they each alternate calling me in rapid fire then the chance of their call being answered will increase. This is a false notion. They are my close friends from home believe it or not, and I affectionately refer to them as The Jokers. It is useless to refer to them as two separate individuals because that’s just simply not how they function. Megan and Laura have merged into one solid unit of jokerness. For those of you not familiar with this whole concept of being a joker, I will use Megan and Laura to help educate you. Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you the top 25 ways you know that you are a joker.
You know you’re a joker when…
25)…a canister of Play-Doh brings on fits of laughter.
24)…you believe you are a princess and are therefore entitled to everything you want when you want it.
23)…you can go out to eat four times in one day and still want to go home and eat fudge
22)…you are upset with your friends and decide the best way to resolve the matter is to leave them the following message: We are in a fight. Bye.
21)…you are 21 years old and have no control over your bladder
20)…you are blind without your glasses, but insist that you don’t need them, which nearly causes you to run your bike into the back of a parked car.
19)…seeing someone in a giant Winnie the Pooh costume causes you to turn bright red with excitement and screech “WINNIE THE POOH!”
18)…you wear Ugg boots.
17)…you have to call your best friend up at least once a week to remind her that you are indeed best friends.
16)…you place an open can of beer in your brand new purse because you’re “saving it for later!”
15)…you actually enjoy listening to Ashlee Simpson.
14)…you were surprised and disappointed to find that Lance Bass is gay.
13)…you lack the common sense to know that police officers wouldn’t really call you on your cell phone to say that they know you’re inside someone’s house partying and that they are waiting outside to arrest you.
12)…all of your hair color decisions are based upon the hair color of your joker best friend.
11)…the joke, “Aren’t you two a cute couple,” will never get old to you.
10)…every time you eat a meal you eat to the point where you are so full that eating becomes painful and causes you to make noises such as, “Ugh! Ahhh! Ow! Oh!” as well as make loud long sighs, and then you continue to eat more food.
9)…your accomplishments in your sorority/fraternity are the crowning achievements in your life.
8)…you are deaf to a degree which ensures that everything said during a conversation will have to be repeated for your sake.
7)…you are proud of the POS stereo that occupies your entire trunk and has been broken for several years. You somehow assume that turning it up will drown out the strange noises it emits, therefore causing your backseat passengers to become as deaf as you are.
6)…you self appoint yourself as the minion of your best friend
5)…you attempt to court your best friend’s older brother when drunk.
4)…you show your two other friends how much you value their friendship by inviting them over for a costume party so you can point and laugh at them as they walk in dressed as an oompa loompa and scarecrow, taking pleasure in the horrified look on their face when greeted by your costumeless entourage.
3)…instead of exchanging Christmas presents like normal people you tell your best friend that you’ve developed a new game in which she takes you shopping, you tell her to try to guess what you want (giving her extremely helpful hints) and then when she finally comes to the right decision you send her to the checkout to buy it for you.
2)…you go to Disneyworld and spend as much time as possible in the dingy hotel room which you hate, and that you’ve spent the last month describing as disgusting and low class, making your other two friends (who, unlike you, had to pay for the trip with their own money) feel guilty about not being able to afford something classy enough to please you. Also, while wasting away your time and parent’s money in said hotel room, you decide it would be fun to make the room appear as though a tampon machine exploded in the middle of the room conveniently sending tampons sailing all over the belongings of the only male on the trip.
1)…you actually requested to be the subject of one of Bridget’s blog posts.
Wednesday, December 27, 2006
Sorry Mom
Mother reading blog = bad news
Blogging about ugly sweater given as gift from mother = "You are getting nothing next year!"
And so...
Dear Enraged Mother,
The sweater is lovely, it really is. That is, until I flip it over. I'm touched that you would go out of your way to obtain such an exquisite article of clothing. The more I think about it the more I realize just how useful this sweater will be. I mean reinforced elbows? That's genius! You know how active I am, and I always find myself burning holes right through those darn sleeves. Now I can take up army crawling again, and never have to worry about my sweater wearing away and leaving my elbows unprotected and subject to nasty rug burns. Thanks mom! And yesterday when I tried to locate a picture of this sweater, I realized just how impossible it is to find. Old Navy doesn't even have it on their website and it's their sweater! You must have traveled far for this Christmas Gem! I had no idea it was such a hot commodity. And finally, compared to the Christmas Gem you gave Aimee last year (bathrobe made for clown), I am very grateful that mine is still wearable in public.
Love,
Bridget
Blogging about ugly sweater given as gift from mother = "You are getting nothing next year!"
And so...
Dear Enraged Mother,
The sweater is lovely, it really is. That is, until I flip it over. I'm touched that you would go out of your way to obtain such an exquisite article of clothing. The more I think about it the more I realize just how useful this sweater will be. I mean reinforced elbows? That's genius! You know how active I am, and I always find myself burning holes right through those darn sleeves. Now I can take up army crawling again, and never have to worry about my sweater wearing away and leaving my elbows unprotected and subject to nasty rug burns. Thanks mom! And yesterday when I tried to locate a picture of this sweater, I realized just how impossible it is to find. Old Navy doesn't even have it on their website and it's their sweater! You must have traveled far for this Christmas Gem! I had no idea it was such a hot commodity. And finally, compared to the Christmas Gem you gave Aimee last year (bathrobe made for clown), I am very grateful that mine is still wearable in public.
Love,
Bridget
Tuesday, December 26, 2006
Ugly Christmas Sweater
Confused? Read Previous Post.
And now for a sneak preview of my next post...
"Let's play a game called guess what I want and then buy it for me."~Megan
"Ok!"~Laura
Christmas Meme
I HATE memes. Hate them. However, I LOVE Poppy. Love her. The fact that she was gracious enough to even utter my name in her blog today made me skip around like a kid hopped up on sugar. So I shall appease her and take part in this Christmas meme. And away we go...
Three things I got for Christmas:
1) iPod! The fact that the soundtrack of my life, which is constantly playing in my head, actually comes from an external source is absolutely thrilling. If nothing else, it makes me slightly less insane.
2) Books. I am a literary nerd and received quite a few. If I had to pick one as my favorite, it would probably be Laurie Notaro's An Idiot Girl's Christmas: True Tales from the Top of the Naughty List. Hilarious.
3) Ugly Christmas Sweater (my mom is going to kill me for this one). It never fails that every year my mother finds some horrid sweater to bestow upon me. It's as though she believes that I am indeed the Ugly Sweater Advocate, born into this world to bring back into fashion that which the rest of the world has forsaken. Last year was what I like to call The Orange Monstrosity, which I put on Christmas morning to humor her, and then never ever wore again. I like to call these Christmas Gems. This year's Christmas Gem was preempted with my mother saying, "Now don't get upset," before I had even attempted to remove any wrapping paper. I held up the sweater and said, "This isn't so bad mom." Then I flipped it around to show the rest of the room and was confronted with a dreadful sight of unwelcome suede patches on each elbow. Seriously mom? *Sweater to be posted separately...won't work in this one :(
Three things I did not want to get:
1) Ugg boots. I detest their presence. Why would a girl wear something deemed "Ugg"?? Are we cavewomen now? Has evolution receded? What's going on? Knock it off.
2) Stephanie Klein's memoir Straight Up & Dirty. No thanks. I got your back Jen Lancaster.
3) A tiny tamarin monkey named Jalapeno to follow me around as a constant source of entertainment. This is a wonderful thought in theory, but I suspect would be much more trouble than it's worth.
I hereby tag:
1) Kenny of Kenny's Online Abode
2) Ogre of Flab to Fab
3) Megan of Timeless Torture
4) Slskenyon of Spark of Madness
5) Cat and Rob (I'm only supposed to pick 5, but I'm tagging you both)
Here are the rules, if you're interested:
1. Players start by listing three things he/she got for Christmas.
2. Then they list three things he/she definitely did not want to get for Christmas.
3. Then he/she tags five friends and lists their names.
4. The ones who get tagged write on their blogs about their Christmas wishes, and state the rules clearly.
5. Then tag five more victims. The tagger needs to leave the taggees a comment that says you have been Christmas tagged! and tell them to read the tagger's blog.
Three things I got for Christmas:
1) iPod! The fact that the soundtrack of my life, which is constantly playing in my head, actually comes from an external source is absolutely thrilling. If nothing else, it makes me slightly less insane.
2) Books. I am a literary nerd and received quite a few. If I had to pick one as my favorite, it would probably be Laurie Notaro's An Idiot Girl's Christmas: True Tales from the Top of the Naughty List. Hilarious.
3) Ugly Christmas Sweater (my mom is going to kill me for this one). It never fails that every year my mother finds some horrid sweater to bestow upon me. It's as though she believes that I am indeed the Ugly Sweater Advocate, born into this world to bring back into fashion that which the rest of the world has forsaken. Last year was what I like to call The Orange Monstrosity, which I put on Christmas morning to humor her, and then never ever wore again. I like to call these Christmas Gems. This year's Christmas Gem was preempted with my mother saying, "Now don't get upset," before I had even attempted to remove any wrapping paper. I held up the sweater and said, "This isn't so bad mom." Then I flipped it around to show the rest of the room and was confronted with a dreadful sight of unwelcome suede patches on each elbow. Seriously mom? *Sweater to be posted separately...won't work in this one :(
Three things I did not want to get:
1) Ugg boots. I detest their presence. Why would a girl wear something deemed "Ugg"?? Are we cavewomen now? Has evolution receded? What's going on? Knock it off.
2) Stephanie Klein's memoir Straight Up & Dirty. No thanks. I got your back Jen Lancaster.
3) A tiny tamarin monkey named Jalapeno to follow me around as a constant source of entertainment. This is a wonderful thought in theory, but I suspect would be much more trouble than it's worth.
I hereby tag:
1) Kenny of Kenny's Online Abode
2) Ogre of Flab to Fab
3) Megan of Timeless Torture
4) Slskenyon of Spark of Madness
5) Cat and Rob (I'm only supposed to pick 5, but I'm tagging you both)
Here are the rules, if you're interested:
1. Players start by listing three things he/she got for Christmas.
2. Then they list three things he/she definitely did not want to get for Christmas.
3. Then he/she tags five friends and lists their names.
4. The ones who get tagged write on their blogs about their Christmas wishes, and state the rules clearly.
5. Then tag five more victims. The tagger needs to leave the taggees a comment that says you have been Christmas tagged! and tell them to read the tagger's blog.
Monday, December 25, 2006
Merry Christmas
It's Christmas so I'm going to be nice.
This is rare. Pay attention.
I went to midnight mass tonight. The mass was being offered for my late grandparents, Glen and Dorothy Haskin. As I sat there I couldn't help but think about the many Christmas's in which we all gathered at their house for our annual Christmas brunch. Yesterday I went for a walk and found myself standing in their old front yard. Their house has been knocked down and is in the process of being replaced with a monstrosity of a residence that sticks out like a sore thumb on the block. Something inside me dies every time I see it.
But I can close my eyes and go back.
I can see the blue paint, the concrete porch, the little extra step by dad put in for my grandpa after the cancer robbed him of his vigor, the light post, the narrow driveway I used to shovel, the flower beds that I used to sit and weed for hours and hours lost in my own thoughts, the black chain link fence, the hose I ran over and sliced open with the lawn mower, the stump of the tree my dad and I cut down in the front yard, and then the pit that replaced that stump some years later which I used to twist my ankle in at least once a summer.
I can close my eyes and still hear Bob Seger blare over the radio as I repainted the deck in my last few weeks leading up to my first semester away from home, and I can see the wooden yellow bird atop the post, wings spinning in the wind. I can travel in the house and see the kitchen I spent an entire winter's break remodeling, and the "secret" door which connected my mother's old room to the backroom.
I can close my eyes and it's Christmas time there again. The village is set up. The little tree is lit and in the front window, adorned with the gulf ball shaped Santa that I got my grandpa when he just started his cancer treatment. The card tables, where I used to help my grandma wrap presents just days before, have been cleaned up and set for breakfast. The kitchen table is pressed up against the wall and filled with coffee cakes, bacon, sausage, ham, banana bread, and most importantly my grandma's scrambled eggs. The last memory I have of my grandma is when my mom made me go over there one night and fix her some eggs, sunny side up, because that was the only thing she really had an appetite for anymore. I remember being so terrified I was going to screw them up. I probably did too, but she would have never let on because that's exactly what my grandparents were about. Unconditional love. That's exactly what my Grandma and Grandpa Deutsch are about too. Never were there any two homes I have ever felt more welcome into than my grandparents'. And even though one of those homes is gone now, the memory of those who lived there is still just as alive and inviting. All I have to do is close my eyes.
So why am I telling you all this? Because Christmas is about love and families. Christmas is about God's love for us shown by sending his only son here to Earth to be born in a manger. It's about the Holy Family and how they had to stick together and get through trial after trial to make sure Jesus was brought into this world according to God's plan, and that he was able to survive and thrive in a loving family environment. Christmas is about our families too, striving to be like that of Jesus'.
Not every Christmas is going to be like the one before. In the course of life we must grow up and grow old. Our heroes will pass on, but new ones will be born to take their place. Our families will grow and take on new meanings. There will come a time where we must bend and accept changes and additions, or in some case loses. But Christmas...Christmas itself, will always be about the same thing. A little baby lying in a manger, oblivious of the impact he would have on the world. A husband and wife, cold and weary from an incredible journey huddling over this life they must nuture. A family. A family in the hands of God.
Keep that in mind this Christmas. Thank God for your families. And thank God for his willingness to share his with us.
Merry Christmas.
This is rare. Pay attention.
I went to midnight mass tonight. The mass was being offered for my late grandparents, Glen and Dorothy Haskin. As I sat there I couldn't help but think about the many Christmas's in which we all gathered at their house for our annual Christmas brunch. Yesterday I went for a walk and found myself standing in their old front yard. Their house has been knocked down and is in the process of being replaced with a monstrosity of a residence that sticks out like a sore thumb on the block. Something inside me dies every time I see it.
But I can close my eyes and go back.
I can see the blue paint, the concrete porch, the little extra step by dad put in for my grandpa after the cancer robbed him of his vigor, the light post, the narrow driveway I used to shovel, the flower beds that I used to sit and weed for hours and hours lost in my own thoughts, the black chain link fence, the hose I ran over and sliced open with the lawn mower, the stump of the tree my dad and I cut down in the front yard, and then the pit that replaced that stump some years later which I used to twist my ankle in at least once a summer.
I can close my eyes and still hear Bob Seger blare over the radio as I repainted the deck in my last few weeks leading up to my first semester away from home, and I can see the wooden yellow bird atop the post, wings spinning in the wind. I can travel in the house and see the kitchen I spent an entire winter's break remodeling, and the "secret" door which connected my mother's old room to the backroom.
I can close my eyes and it's Christmas time there again. The village is set up. The little tree is lit and in the front window, adorned with the gulf ball shaped Santa that I got my grandpa when he just started his cancer treatment. The card tables, where I used to help my grandma wrap presents just days before, have been cleaned up and set for breakfast. The kitchen table is pressed up against the wall and filled with coffee cakes, bacon, sausage, ham, banana bread, and most importantly my grandma's scrambled eggs. The last memory I have of my grandma is when my mom made me go over there one night and fix her some eggs, sunny side up, because that was the only thing she really had an appetite for anymore. I remember being so terrified I was going to screw them up. I probably did too, but she would have never let on because that's exactly what my grandparents were about. Unconditional love. That's exactly what my Grandma and Grandpa Deutsch are about too. Never were there any two homes I have ever felt more welcome into than my grandparents'. And even though one of those homes is gone now, the memory of those who lived there is still just as alive and inviting. All I have to do is close my eyes.
So why am I telling you all this? Because Christmas is about love and families. Christmas is about God's love for us shown by sending his only son here to Earth to be born in a manger. It's about the Holy Family and how they had to stick together and get through trial after trial to make sure Jesus was brought into this world according to God's plan, and that he was able to survive and thrive in a loving family environment. Christmas is about our families too, striving to be like that of Jesus'.
Not every Christmas is going to be like the one before. In the course of life we must grow up and grow old. Our heroes will pass on, but new ones will be born to take their place. Our families will grow and take on new meanings. There will come a time where we must bend and accept changes and additions, or in some case loses. But Christmas...Christmas itself, will always be about the same thing. A little baby lying in a manger, oblivious of the impact he would have on the world. A husband and wife, cold and weary from an incredible journey huddling over this life they must nuture. A family. A family in the hands of God.
Keep that in mind this Christmas. Thank God for your families. And thank God for his willingness to share his with us.
Merry Christmas.
Thursday, December 21, 2006
Graduation Fun
My sister Meghan graduated from Elgin Community College tonight with an Associates in Art.
Graduation ceremonies are such dreaded events. Generally speaking, they are long, stuffy, boring, and far too serious for my liking. Obviously with these preconceived notions I was not looking forward to Meghan's graduation tonight. I am fully aware that my sister has done a great deal of putting up with me over the last twenty one years so I decided the least I could do was put up with some inadequate speakers and a parading of strangers to see her walk for graduation.
The fun began about two hours before the ceremony when my mother insisted we leave an hour and a half before the ceremony began to ensure we obtained good seats. I calmly explained to her she was a raving lunatic, but in the end I could only convince her to wait and leave an hour before the ceremony. When we arrived into the nearly empty auditorium with 40 minutes to go till the ceremony started all I could do was shake my head, and be grateful I had brought along a book to read.
The first indication I had that this was going to be no normal graduation ceremony came from the large older woman sitting two rows ahead of me. I heard her squeeky voice exclaim excitedly at the arrival of a friend of hers. She got up out of her seat, shook the person's hand, and then plopped back down...to the floor. If you haven't guessed yet, these seats where of the likeness of that which you would find in a movie theater. The ones that flip up when no one is sitting in them. That is a hard concept for some. Upon getting up, her seat returned to its upright position and so when she went to sit down she went straight to the floor. The man behind her (clearly one of her family members) reached over and hoisted her up off the floor.
"I don't know how it happened!" she exclaimed.
"The chairs are spring loaded!" he replied horrified.
"What?! I've never heard of such a thing."
Who needs a book with that kind of entertainment.
Ladies and gentlemen, this was just the beginning. The graduates filed in and the speakers took their seats on the stage. A woman sat in the front lefthand corner of the stage facing the audience. It took me a moment to realize she was there to translate the speeches into sign langauge. Oh that's nice. Sign language is so fascinating, I should really learn. The president of ECC stepped forward to begin the ceremony with an introduction and the sign language lady stood up and began.
I know absolutely no sign lanuage, but I have seen many a sign language translator before, and this display was like nothing I have ever seen. This woman was dancing. Break dancing. The full body heaves her body was going through went along perfectly to the soundtrack I was playing in my head for her. Track 1 was Workin' at the Carwash. And she was working. Her facial expressions were probably the greatest things I've ever seen. They in no way matched the words that were coming out of the actual speakers mouth. In fact, if I didn't know any better, I'd say she was mocking him. I just kept thinking WHY DIDN'T WE BRING THE VIDEO CAMERA?! It reminded me of a mime who had downed two bottles of NightQuil before attempting a performance. I just cannot believe that the motions she was making matched in anyway to the actual words that were spoken. You know how in the YMCA dance people extend their arms and point while bouncing their arm up and down, moving from one side to the other? She did that. More than once. She also did what I can only describe as picking up an invisible rope and, tying it into a lasso, and tossing it around the large woman two seats in front of me who could not operate her chair. I have no idea what any of the speakers said, but I clearly remember the sign langauge lady cocking an imaginary rifle and firing off two rounds.
My brother and I put forth our best efforts not to laugh outloud, but we had the entire row of chairs shaking from our stiffled laughter. My mother shot us dirty looks for the first few minutes, but she too could not resist outright laughing at the gestures coming from this woman. Eventually I realized that the only way to keep myself from laughing outloud or wetting my pants was to stare down at the ground. I tried. I really did. I just could not stand not knowing what crazy thing she'd do next. I had to watch her. Her whole body swayed back and forth with every movement. The one instance when her gestures actually matched up with the speaker was when I nearly lost it. The commencement speaker was talking about her days as a freshman and how she used to walk through the halls not talking to anyone and staring at her feet. The sign langauge woman stood in place and sped walked looking down at the ground. That's right, speed walking in place, head down. I bet you didn't think that was possible. Oh but it is.
When the sign lanaguage lady began to flash gang signs the soundtrack in my mind switched over to P. Diddy's Shake Ya' Tailfeather. I feel like if someone had taken the time to clear her some space she would have been on the floor doing the worm. No such luck. She did continue to entertain us, however, by leaning back, criss crossing her arms back and forth, and contorting her face as though she were on 8 mile trying to spew out some wicked rhymes. Can you believe this was a free show?
The speeches ended with an awesome send off consisting of the sign language lady putting her hands together and out in front of her like the diver from Mousetrap. Shen then swerved them back and forth as if parting through an invisible crowd. This was quickly followed up with her casting an invisible line and reeling us all in one by one. Fantastic! Bravo!
Did I mention the ceremony ended with large tables full of cookies being wheeled out into the auditorium? That was just icing on the cake. What an awesome night. Way to go ECC, you guys know how to entertain.
Oh yeah, and congratulations Meghan!
Graduation ceremonies are such dreaded events. Generally speaking, they are long, stuffy, boring, and far too serious for my liking. Obviously with these preconceived notions I was not looking forward to Meghan's graduation tonight. I am fully aware that my sister has done a great deal of putting up with me over the last twenty one years so I decided the least I could do was put up with some inadequate speakers and a parading of strangers to see her walk for graduation.
The fun began about two hours before the ceremony when my mother insisted we leave an hour and a half before the ceremony began to ensure we obtained good seats. I calmly explained to her she was a raving lunatic, but in the end I could only convince her to wait and leave an hour before the ceremony. When we arrived into the nearly empty auditorium with 40 minutes to go till the ceremony started all I could do was shake my head, and be grateful I had brought along a book to read.
The first indication I had that this was going to be no normal graduation ceremony came from the large older woman sitting two rows ahead of me. I heard her squeeky voice exclaim excitedly at the arrival of a friend of hers. She got up out of her seat, shook the person's hand, and then plopped back down...to the floor. If you haven't guessed yet, these seats where of the likeness of that which you would find in a movie theater. The ones that flip up when no one is sitting in them. That is a hard concept for some. Upon getting up, her seat returned to its upright position and so when she went to sit down she went straight to the floor. The man behind her (clearly one of her family members) reached over and hoisted her up off the floor.
"I don't know how it happened!" she exclaimed.
"The chairs are spring loaded!" he replied horrified.
"What?! I've never heard of such a thing."
Who needs a book with that kind of entertainment.
Ladies and gentlemen, this was just the beginning. The graduates filed in and the speakers took their seats on the stage. A woman sat in the front lefthand corner of the stage facing the audience. It took me a moment to realize she was there to translate the speeches into sign langauge. Oh that's nice. Sign language is so fascinating, I should really learn. The president of ECC stepped forward to begin the ceremony with an introduction and the sign language lady stood up and began.
I know absolutely no sign lanuage, but I have seen many a sign language translator before, and this display was like nothing I have ever seen. This woman was dancing. Break dancing. The full body heaves her body was going through went along perfectly to the soundtrack I was playing in my head for her. Track 1 was Workin' at the Carwash. And she was working. Her facial expressions were probably the greatest things I've ever seen. They in no way matched the words that were coming out of the actual speakers mouth. In fact, if I didn't know any better, I'd say she was mocking him. I just kept thinking WHY DIDN'T WE BRING THE VIDEO CAMERA?! It reminded me of a mime who had downed two bottles of NightQuil before attempting a performance. I just cannot believe that the motions she was making matched in anyway to the actual words that were spoken. You know how in the YMCA dance people extend their arms and point while bouncing their arm up and down, moving from one side to the other? She did that. More than once. She also did what I can only describe as picking up an invisible rope and, tying it into a lasso, and tossing it around the large woman two seats in front of me who could not operate her chair. I have no idea what any of the speakers said, but I clearly remember the sign langauge lady cocking an imaginary rifle and firing off two rounds.
My brother and I put forth our best efforts not to laugh outloud, but we had the entire row of chairs shaking from our stiffled laughter. My mother shot us dirty looks for the first few minutes, but she too could not resist outright laughing at the gestures coming from this woman. Eventually I realized that the only way to keep myself from laughing outloud or wetting my pants was to stare down at the ground. I tried. I really did. I just could not stand not knowing what crazy thing she'd do next. I had to watch her. Her whole body swayed back and forth with every movement. The one instance when her gestures actually matched up with the speaker was when I nearly lost it. The commencement speaker was talking about her days as a freshman and how she used to walk through the halls not talking to anyone and staring at her feet. The sign langauge woman stood in place and sped walked looking down at the ground. That's right, speed walking in place, head down. I bet you didn't think that was possible. Oh but it is.
When the sign lanaguage lady began to flash gang signs the soundtrack in my mind switched over to P. Diddy's Shake Ya' Tailfeather. I feel like if someone had taken the time to clear her some space she would have been on the floor doing the worm. No such luck. She did continue to entertain us, however, by leaning back, criss crossing her arms back and forth, and contorting her face as though she were on 8 mile trying to spew out some wicked rhymes. Can you believe this was a free show?
The speeches ended with an awesome send off consisting of the sign language lady putting her hands together and out in front of her like the diver from Mousetrap. Shen then swerved them back and forth as if parting through an invisible crowd. This was quickly followed up with her casting an invisible line and reeling us all in one by one. Fantastic! Bravo!
Did I mention the ceremony ended with large tables full of cookies being wheeled out into the auditorium? That was just icing on the cake. What an awesome night. Way to go ECC, you guys know how to entertain.
Oh yeah, and congratulations Meghan!
Sunday, December 17, 2006
SPAM Tribute
Oh you clever spammers! You know just what to say in a subject line to make me yearn to open your junk email...or not.
I find your new tactic of poor grammar especially appealing, but I fear most people won't. Here's a thought, when you're trying to sell something you may not want to come off as a raging idiot before your email is even opened. Subject lines such as "It ready" say to me "I didn't finish middle school." At least hold off on revealing your complete incompetence until the email is opened, and then maybe you can wow me with some product "photos" you sketched in Windows Paint.
I especially love those who SPAM in hoards. I have always found that an overall lack of syntax that comes by the dozen has a much better effect than just receiving one email. It removes any speculation I may have had regarding simple typos, and confirms my fear that some people just have never been introduced to the apostrophe. Last week I had the opportunity to reunite with several old friends I never knew I had. My Inbox was full of emails bearing titles such as, "It Carol," "It Mike," "It Josh," "It Stephanie." Oh Carol! It really you?
So thank you spam "artists" for reminding me daily why it is important for me to stay in school. Good luck with your future endeavors. And no, I'm not at all annoyed with the amount of space you take up in my inbox.
I find your new tactic of poor grammar especially appealing, but I fear most people won't. Here's a thought, when you're trying to sell something you may not want to come off as a raging idiot before your email is even opened. Subject lines such as "It ready" say to me "I didn't finish middle school." At least hold off on revealing your complete incompetence until the email is opened, and then maybe you can wow me with some product "photos" you sketched in Windows Paint.
I especially love those who SPAM in hoards. I have always found that an overall lack of syntax that comes by the dozen has a much better effect than just receiving one email. It removes any speculation I may have had regarding simple typos, and confirms my fear that some people just have never been introduced to the apostrophe. Last week I had the opportunity to reunite with several old friends I never knew I had. My Inbox was full of emails bearing titles such as, "It Carol," "It Mike," "It Josh," "It Stephanie." Oh Carol! It really you?
So thank you spam "artists" for reminding me daily why it is important for me to stay in school. Good luck with your future endeavors. And no, I'm not at all annoyed with the amount of space you take up in my inbox.
Monday, December 11, 2006
Relax!
For all those trying to relax during finals week, let me recount the events of a certain relaxation session I was forced through last week...
As I crossed the threshold into my International Health Issues class I spied a funny looking older woman conversing with my professor. What do I mean by funny? Let me paint a picture for you. Her name was Maria. She towered at a height of 5'3 and her thin body was cloaked under a giant grey sweater which draped down to her knees. A lavender turtleneck emerged from the top of the sweater, which matched perfectly with the lavender boa she wore wrapped around....her head. Yes her head, like a ninja fairy. She had long brown/grey hair braided down as long as her sweater, and to combat the adverse weather conditions she wore tapered jeans tucked into hiking boots. One quick glance at her face suggested she might have rosacea, but a closer inspection revealed an unnecessary amount of blush plastered on in several layers.
Basically, I was thoroughly amused before she even opened her mouth. And when she did, everything just got so much better.
"I imagine some of you are a little stressed out at this point," she began. "Do you know what happens when you get stressed out? You stop taking care of yourself. You stop sleeping right, you stop eating right, and then you get sick!"
Check. Check. Check.
"So today I am going to show you how to relax--oh my look at these lights! These lights are stealing your Vitamin B!"
Excellent! She's a nutcase!
My professor scurried over to flick off the lights, and away we went.
"Close your eyes everyone."
NAP TIME!
"Feel free to fall asleep."
For real?!
"Now I want you to find your inner smile."
"HA!" Oops, that was outloud.
"You will find your inner smile behind your third eye."
Come again?
*Points to the center of her forehead* "Your third eye."
Hmmm...if we are all supposed to have our eyes closed, how were we supposed to see that? Good thing I don't follow directions well.
"Your inner smile is a glowing ball of light."
Interesting, tell me more.
"Your inner smile will travel with it's healing light throughout your body, smiling at your organs."
Smiling at my organs? Oh no, this is too much.
"Smile into your alveolar sacs....Smile into your gallbladder...."
(This was the beginning of a long drawn out process in which we followed our inner light throughout our entire body stopping at each organ to smile into it. Yes that's right, smile into it. She would stop and have us smile into every single organ and meditate on the usefulness of each one).
Midway through this ordeal she informed us that she forget to mention that our third eye was a beaming light, much like a flashlight shining into us, following our inner smile throughout our body. That information would have been so much more helpful from the start.
"I suspect some of you have some negative energy," she continued.
That might be an understatement.
"Smile into your negative energy. Transform it into healing light of smiling energy."
Why didn't I think of that before?! Mmmm...lalala...light..wala! All better! Genius!
Needless to say I spent the majority of the time focusing really hard on not laughing aloud, that is, up until the point I fell asleep. After which, I became very relaxed. So yeah, mission accomplished crazy lady.
In conclusion, good luck with finals this week everyone! If you get stressed out take Maria's advice and find your inner smile. Or just try to imagine what she looked like, that works too.
As I crossed the threshold into my International Health Issues class I spied a funny looking older woman conversing with my professor. What do I mean by funny? Let me paint a picture for you. Her name was Maria. She towered at a height of 5'3 and her thin body was cloaked under a giant grey sweater which draped down to her knees. A lavender turtleneck emerged from the top of the sweater, which matched perfectly with the lavender boa she wore wrapped around....her head. Yes her head, like a ninja fairy. She had long brown/grey hair braided down as long as her sweater, and to combat the adverse weather conditions she wore tapered jeans tucked into hiking boots. One quick glance at her face suggested she might have rosacea, but a closer inspection revealed an unnecessary amount of blush plastered on in several layers.
Basically, I was thoroughly amused before she even opened her mouth. And when she did, everything just got so much better.
"I imagine some of you are a little stressed out at this point," she began. "Do you know what happens when you get stressed out? You stop taking care of yourself. You stop sleeping right, you stop eating right, and then you get sick!"
Check. Check. Check.
"So today I am going to show you how to relax--oh my look at these lights! These lights are stealing your Vitamin B!"
Excellent! She's a nutcase!
My professor scurried over to flick off the lights, and away we went.
"Close your eyes everyone."
NAP TIME!
"Feel free to fall asleep."
For real?!
"Now I want you to find your inner smile."
"HA!" Oops, that was outloud.
"You will find your inner smile behind your third eye."
Come again?
*Points to the center of her forehead* "Your third eye."
Hmmm...if we are all supposed to have our eyes closed, how were we supposed to see that? Good thing I don't follow directions well.
"Your inner smile is a glowing ball of light."
Interesting, tell me more.
"Your inner smile will travel with it's healing light throughout your body, smiling at your organs."
Smiling at my organs? Oh no, this is too much.
"Smile into your alveolar sacs....Smile into your gallbladder...."
(This was the beginning of a long drawn out process in which we followed our inner light throughout our entire body stopping at each organ to smile into it. Yes that's right, smile into it. She would stop and have us smile into every single organ and meditate on the usefulness of each one).
Midway through this ordeal she informed us that she forget to mention that our third eye was a beaming light, much like a flashlight shining into us, following our inner smile throughout our body. That information would have been so much more helpful from the start.
"I suspect some of you have some negative energy," she continued.
That might be an understatement.
"Smile into your negative energy. Transform it into healing light of smiling energy."
Why didn't I think of that before?! Mmmm...lalala...light..wala! All better! Genius!
Needless to say I spent the majority of the time focusing really hard on not laughing aloud, that is, up until the point I fell asleep. After which, I became very relaxed. So yeah, mission accomplished crazy lady.
In conclusion, good luck with finals this week everyone! If you get stressed out take Maria's advice and find your inner smile. Or just try to imagine what she looked like, that works too.
Monday, December 04, 2006
Crabby
I don't feel well, I am incapable of learning and applying organic chemistry, and I've run out of things to throw across my room.
I have this increasing notion that there is currently a stress induced ulcer forming in my stomach. That would explain the nausea and stomach pains.
I'd really like a large blunt object right about now...no reason.
So yeah. Happy day.
I have this increasing notion that there is currently a stress induced ulcer forming in my stomach. That would explain the nausea and stomach pains.
I'd really like a large blunt object right about now...no reason.
So yeah. Happy day.
Thursday, November 30, 2006
She's Not Completely Crazy
You know how there are certain words and phrases in the English language that just need to be retired? My mother is their advocate. She will not let them die.
My mom likes to whip out stellar phrases like, "I bet you dollars to donuts..." The best part is that she uses this phrase when she is trying to make a serious point about something, and she actually expects us to keep a straight face following its delivery.
The number one beneficiary of her ridiculous vocabulary crusade is the word persnickety. She is the only person I have ever heard use this word. With no exception, the only person. In fact, I live under the firm believe that if my mother stopped using this word, it would drop off the face of the Earth never to be heard again. This past weekend my mother dropped the persnickety bomb again, and this time it was in the presence of several other people. Judging by the strange looks and snickers that were exchanged between us after hearing the word, I suspect none of them had ever heard it used before either. This made me wonder if persnickety was even a real word. I knew what it meant and could define it, but only because I had heard my mother use it for so long. I suggested to her that she made it up and she fervently denied it.
I took it upon myself to look it up and check. You're right mom, it is a word. Sorry I doubted you. This in no way suggests that I believe you should continue to use this word, just that you're a little less crazy than originally suspected.
persnickety
One entry found for persnickety.
Main Entry: per•snick•e•ty
Pronunciation: p&r-'sni-k&-tE
Function: adjective
Etymology: alteration of pernickety
1 a : fussy about small details : FASTIDIOUS b : having the characteristics of a snob
2 : requiring great precision
- per•snick•e•ti•ness /-n&s/ noun
http://www.m-w.com/cgi-bin/netdict?persnickety
My mom likes to whip out stellar phrases like, "I bet you dollars to donuts..." The best part is that she uses this phrase when she is trying to make a serious point about something, and she actually expects us to keep a straight face following its delivery.
The number one beneficiary of her ridiculous vocabulary crusade is the word persnickety. She is the only person I have ever heard use this word. With no exception, the only person. In fact, I live under the firm believe that if my mother stopped using this word, it would drop off the face of the Earth never to be heard again. This past weekend my mother dropped the persnickety bomb again, and this time it was in the presence of several other people. Judging by the strange looks and snickers that were exchanged between us after hearing the word, I suspect none of them had ever heard it used before either. This made me wonder if persnickety was even a real word. I knew what it meant and could define it, but only because I had heard my mother use it for so long. I suggested to her that she made it up and she fervently denied it.
I took it upon myself to look it up and check. You're right mom, it is a word. Sorry I doubted you. This in no way suggests that I believe you should continue to use this word, just that you're a little less crazy than originally suspected.
persnickety
One entry found for persnickety.
Main Entry: per•snick•e•ty
Pronunciation: p&r-'sni-k&-tE
Function: adjective
Etymology: alteration of pernickety
1 a : fussy about small details : FASTIDIOUS b : having the characteristics of a snob
2 : requiring great precision
- per•snick•e•ti•ness /-n&s/ noun
http://www.m-w.com/cgi-bin/netdict?persnickety
Wednesday, November 22, 2006
Group Projects
I shouldn't...I REALLY shouldn't. I promised myself I was going to be less evil...turn over a new leaf...blah blah blah. Last week, however, I was teetering on the edge and someone came up and gave me a giant push right off, so here we go. I've put my other book on hold to write something pertinent and useful to the general public. It's a self help book of sorts. I'd like to share with you chapter one.
2) Do not try to conceal from me the fact that you can read.
We are seniors in college, I am well aware that you can read. Therefore, when we need to look up information for our paper/project you are expected to actually read the articles yourself and pull from them useful information. Do not send me the articles so that I can do it for you. If you are going to be idiotic enough to do this make sure the sources you send my way are ones that can be used for the project. This will decrease your chance of getting fatally shot by 31.4%.
3) Follow my outline.
4) B.S. and Research Papers/Projects Do Not Mix
Contrary to popular belief, “Research” is not code for B.S. When a professor asks you to write a research paper he/she actually expects you to look up information. The hints I throw at you for weeks about going to the library and getting some credible sources are not some crazy side effect of the anti-kill-your-partner meds I am on. Therefore, when you hand me your half of the research paper and I ask you, “Where are your sources?” do not look at me without a hint of alarm and reply, “I didn’t really think I needed to use sources. I just kind of B.S’ed it.” Based on our previous conversations regarding the project (in which I continually have to correct you and remind you exactly what the project is about), I am aware of the fact that you know nothing about the topic, and so have no business pretending you do.
5) When the rubric indicates the need to cite your sources, do it…and correctly.
Remember that there are two parts to citing sources. The in-text citation and the actual source being cited, which goes on the reference page. Do not send me your portion of the paper the day it is due with in-text citations (which are not done correctly in the first place) and no sources to place on the actual reference page. Believe it or not there is more than one resource which (Smith, 1999) may indicate and I cannot write up the reference for you based on a commonly used last name and a date. Actions like this increase your chance of being shot by 99.7%. In fact, I’d prefer you didn’t cite your sources at all over this method. I realize that suggesting you use something like a writing guide which tells you step by step how to cite your sources is incredibly inconsiderate of me, and so all I ask is that you plug the information into The Citation Machine. At least then the corrections I need to make in the wee hours of the morning are minimal.
6) Be upfront about your issues.
If you are a raging idiot, I will find out sooner or later. It is best to just tell me right off the bat. I can work with you. I can help you. Do not wait until the project is due to tell me that you weren’t able to find any information or that you didn’t know how to do something. I need more time than that.
7) Choose your words wisely.
When I walk into class the day the project is due after staying up all night compensating for your incompetence and it looks as though I have been hit by a train and haven’t slept in weeks, choose your words wisely. At this point a coin is flipping in my head about whether or not I kill you or just maim you. Looking at me and saying in a disgusted manner, “You look rough,” will cause the coin to suddenly drop to the ground heads up. This does not bode well for you.
8) Compensate.
If extenuating circumstances (the sudden realization that not using your brain for the first 21 years of your life has brought about irreversible atrophy) cause you to not hold up your end of the project, then offset this offense with presents. I like pizza, chocolate, Border’s gift cards, money, ice cream, and expensive electronics.
9) Do not make light of your lack of involvement.
When you are contributing in no way to the project do not pretend that everything is cool between you and me. Do not try to carry on conversations about the weather or nudge me in the arm as you tell a funny joke. This physical contact might be mistaken for assault by my already hostile mind and I will respond with self defense (putting a bullet in your head). Instead, refer to number 8.
10) Become well acquainted with the bottom line.
Bottom line: I don’t hand in shitty work. If my name is on something, it will reflect the quality I am capable of producing. If you hand me what I deem “useless crap” I will not shrug my shoulders and hand it in anyways. I will fix it. It will take me hours. I will hate you. I will shoot you.
*By the way, if you’re reading this and thinking, ‘Oh my goodness, is she talking about me?’ Yes. Yes I am. Wipe that shocked, hurt look off your face. You’re welcome for the A.
Group Projects with Bridget: A Guide to Not Getting Shot
To Ryan, and all of his brilliant inspiring ideas. Thank you for letting me know it's ok to rant now and again.
Chapter One
I’m at a loss as to why professors insist on group projects. I’ve heard rumors that it helps one to learn to work well with others. That’s a nice thought isn’t it? Unfortunately it doesn’t take into account raving idiots, incompetent jokers, and hopelessly unmotivated bums. As I perused through my syllabi at the beginning of the semester, my mind quickly tallied the numerous group projects that were in store for me. Naturally, this sent a chill up my spine and it took every fiber of my being not to curl up into a ball and cry/change majors.
I feel it is important at this time to state that I have a disease which I believe is clinically termed “Over Achiever’s Syndrome.” This condition creates in me an unnecessary desire to dominate any and all school work thrown my way. Clearly this presents issues when working with the less than motivated student, which I find upsetting. The fact that I am psychotic and driven should be an added bonus to group work. Instead, it is a green light for the slackers of the world to flock toward me and immediately cease putting forth whatever minimal effort they had in the past. I realize that I am out of control and that no one should have to work at the insane intensity level I do, but is it too much to ask that people pull their weight to the best of their abilities? Past experience has shown this is indeed too much to ask. Well guess what? I’m done. The Bridget of the past who smiles sweetly when you hand her a multitude of plagiarized pages (which will keep her up all night meticulously back checking your sources and citing them properly) is no more. No longer will she hand in a project which also displays your name when you have done none of the work. Today marks the birth of a new kind of Bridget. This Bridget will no longer mutter meaningless threats on your life in the comfort of her own bedroom or fantasize about blowing a hole through your head, she actually will kill you. If you do not abide by her demands, you will get shot.
Because I am generally opposed to the idea of cold blooded murder, I have provided a list of guidelines to follow so I don’t have to shoot you…execution style…with a crazy smirk on my face and a psychotic gleam in my eye.
1) Be present and on time to all group meetings.
When I say, “Meet at the library at such and such time so we can get this project done,” you will not call me 8 hours later on your way to work after standing me up and leave a message on my phone telling ME that the project is due in two days and that YOU think we should get together and work on it. You’ll have to excuse me, but my schedule is tight and I have not scheduled in “Post Idiot Partner’s Alcohol Consumption Recovery Period Make-up Group Meeting.”
I feel it is important at this time to state that I have a disease which I believe is clinically termed “Over Achiever’s Syndrome.” This condition creates in me an unnecessary desire to dominate any and all school work thrown my way. Clearly this presents issues when working with the less than motivated student, which I find upsetting. The fact that I am psychotic and driven should be an added bonus to group work. Instead, it is a green light for the slackers of the world to flock toward me and immediately cease putting forth whatever minimal effort they had in the past. I realize that I am out of control and that no one should have to work at the insane intensity level I do, but is it too much to ask that people pull their weight to the best of their abilities? Past experience has shown this is indeed too much to ask. Well guess what? I’m done. The Bridget of the past who smiles sweetly when you hand her a multitude of plagiarized pages (which will keep her up all night meticulously back checking your sources and citing them properly) is no more. No longer will she hand in a project which also displays your name when you have done none of the work. Today marks the birth of a new kind of Bridget. This Bridget will no longer mutter meaningless threats on your life in the comfort of her own bedroom or fantasize about blowing a hole through your head, she actually will kill you. If you do not abide by her demands, you will get shot.
Because I am generally opposed to the idea of cold blooded murder, I have provided a list of guidelines to follow so I don’t have to shoot you…execution style…with a crazy smirk on my face and a psychotic gleam in my eye.
1) Be present and on time to all group meetings.
When I say, “Meet at the library at such and such time so we can get this project done,” you will not call me 8 hours later on your way to work after standing me up and leave a message on my phone telling ME that the project is due in two days and that YOU think we should get together and work on it. You’ll have to excuse me, but my schedule is tight and I have not scheduled in “Post Idiot Partner’s Alcohol Consumption Recovery Period Make-up Group Meeting.”
2) Do not try to conceal from me the fact that you can read.
We are seniors in college, I am well aware that you can read. Therefore, when we need to look up information for our paper/project you are expected to actually read the articles yourself and pull from them useful information. Do not send me the articles so that I can do it for you. If you are going to be idiotic enough to do this make sure the sources you send my way are ones that can be used for the project. This will decrease your chance of getting fatally shot by 31.4%.
3) Follow my outline.
I know what I’m doing. If I provide you with an outline which spells out exactly what you are to do in order to succeed, follow it. For those of you who I feel are particularly unmotivated I tend to make the outline so extensive that the only thing you have to do is add conjunction words. Do not disregard my suggestions and write three pages of incoherent babble which has no factual basis. I will not use it. I will hold down the delete button for 30 seconds and watch it all disappear before my eyes. I will then stay up an extra three hours doing the research you should have done and write your section for you. This will make me irate and the next time I see you there will be a gun in my hand, and a bullet (or five) with your name on it.
4) B.S. and Research Papers/Projects Do Not Mix
Contrary to popular belief, “Research” is not code for B.S. When a professor asks you to write a research paper he/she actually expects you to look up information. The hints I throw at you for weeks about going to the library and getting some credible sources are not some crazy side effect of the anti-kill-your-partner meds I am on. Therefore, when you hand me your half of the research paper and I ask you, “Where are your sources?” do not look at me without a hint of alarm and reply, “I didn’t really think I needed to use sources. I just kind of B.S’ed it.” Based on our previous conversations regarding the project (in which I continually have to correct you and remind you exactly what the project is about), I am aware of the fact that you know nothing about the topic, and so have no business pretending you do.
5) When the rubric indicates the need to cite your sources, do it…and correctly.
Remember that there are two parts to citing sources. The in-text citation and the actual source being cited, which goes on the reference page. Do not send me your portion of the paper the day it is due with in-text citations (which are not done correctly in the first place) and no sources to place on the actual reference page. Believe it or not there is more than one resource which (Smith, 1999) may indicate and I cannot write up the reference for you based on a commonly used last name and a date. Actions like this increase your chance of being shot by 99.7%. In fact, I’d prefer you didn’t cite your sources at all over this method. I realize that suggesting you use something like a writing guide which tells you step by step how to cite your sources is incredibly inconsiderate of me, and so all I ask is that you plug the information into The Citation Machine. At least then the corrections I need to make in the wee hours of the morning are minimal.
6) Be upfront about your issues.
If you are a raging idiot, I will find out sooner or later. It is best to just tell me right off the bat. I can work with you. I can help you. Do not wait until the project is due to tell me that you weren’t able to find any information or that you didn’t know how to do something. I need more time than that.
7) Choose your words wisely.
When I walk into class the day the project is due after staying up all night compensating for your incompetence and it looks as though I have been hit by a train and haven’t slept in weeks, choose your words wisely. At this point a coin is flipping in my head about whether or not I kill you or just maim you. Looking at me and saying in a disgusted manner, “You look rough,” will cause the coin to suddenly drop to the ground heads up. This does not bode well for you.
8) Compensate.
If extenuating circumstances (the sudden realization that not using your brain for the first 21 years of your life has brought about irreversible atrophy) cause you to not hold up your end of the project, then offset this offense with presents. I like pizza, chocolate, Border’s gift cards, money, ice cream, and expensive electronics.
9) Do not make light of your lack of involvement.
When you are contributing in no way to the project do not pretend that everything is cool between you and me. Do not try to carry on conversations about the weather or nudge me in the arm as you tell a funny joke. This physical contact might be mistaken for assault by my already hostile mind and I will respond with self defense (putting a bullet in your head). Instead, refer to number 8.
10) Become well acquainted with the bottom line.
Bottom line: I don’t hand in shitty work. If my name is on something, it will reflect the quality I am capable of producing. If you hand me what I deem “useless crap” I will not shrug my shoulders and hand it in anyways. I will fix it. It will take me hours. I will hate you. I will shoot you.
*By the way, if you’re reading this and thinking, ‘Oh my goodness, is she talking about me?’ Yes. Yes I am. Wipe that shocked, hurt look off your face. You’re welcome for the A.
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