Welcome Back to the Real World

I wrote a post over at Buddy Comedy about my year spent playing World of Warcraft. Heave a big sigh for me as you read.

Ryan Adams - Follow the Lights

Rating Scores

(With special contributer, and my sister, Ligia)

Way way back in March 2005, my sister and I had a strange and memorable experience while sitting in the church balcony during a Sunday morning service. We witnessed something that caused us to create a list that to this day makes us amused and annoyed when looking at it. It was a rating scale of sorts and while we were pretty FCC conscious of our written language, we still think it's a relevant rating system in 2007. Rather than explain it here, we will go through each line and rehash the dumb moment that caused us to write about it on that slip of paper. All you need to know to start is that it involves four or so 16 year old boys, with their little leader instigating the madness right in front of us.

March 6, 2005

Fake snoring = Lame-butt:

These guys actually were fake snoring in the balcony. I remember looking at Ligia and asking if these guys were for real.

Ripping paper = Jackball*:
Not just any ripping, but ripping of the loud variety. The kind where you hold the paper out in front of you and make a prolonged rip right down the middle.

*Jackball is the combination of jackass and oddball. Thank you, Mr. Hendrie.

Writing "Hello" big on paper = Freak:
Their ring leader wrote a huge "HELLO" on a blank page and just flashed it to people down below.

Touching hair constantly like a mo = Mo:
I have no issue that his hair was styled and looked like he put some time into grooming as opposed to just grunting in the mirror and moving on. But he was straight up preening. I deeply objected.

Writing love letters to pastor = Flaming Mo:
Yes, the dude wrote "I LOVE YOU" on a page and just held it up at our pastor in the front.

Showing boxers = Lover of dill and flies*:
Something about guys and their not being able to just pull up their pants has always been a bugaboo of mine.

*Dill and Flies - Oh boy. Sort of a Romanian inside joke, but here's the gist. Dill is used in everything, and I mean anything that they think they can sneak away with, they'll do it. And my aunt, who is a notorious dill user, always has these buffet meals ready to go whenever she has a family get-together at her house. Alongside this display of food, there are also a multitude of flies always buzzing over the dill-infused food. One Sunday in church we found out we were going to lunch at that aunt's house and the phrase "Is she serving dill and flies" just came out on the notes I was writing to my sister. We literally laughed out loud during the service and my mom gave us the elbow jab and death glare. So whenever we have to go to her house, my sister and I never fail to ask my parents whether she will be serving "dill and flies" (It's much more affective a joke when you've had to endure that combination. Be forever grateful that you have been spared. For now.)

Drops a hymnal book = What a sap:
Sure, people accidentally drop books and no one gives a rip, but this was completely intentional. Plus they would really drop it so that it was a loud thud on the ground, loud enough to get people to look up into the balcony to see what was going on.

Wearing pen behind ear = Crackhead
I think this is where we kind of became a little ridiculous because now any little thing about these schmucks was irritating, and seeing a pen behind the ringleader's ear was enough to aggravate. Thus the use of crackhead.

Waving to someone in church = Creep

Come on. Waving to someone down below in the middle of a sermon? I was ready to shove him over the rail and accomodate his obvious need to say hello to his friend below.

So... I guess the point of this post is that Ligia and I get angry at idiots and will write the venom down to remember and get angry at for years to come. We rule.

Rod Stewart - Young Turks

Andrea Digs [Insert Artist/Song Here] - October '07

Scott Matthews. Listen and love.

Scott Matthews - "Dream Song" (mp3)

GO GO GO

My Graduate School application is due by Thursday. Online application sent in and being processed? Check. CBEST taken and kicked up and down the block for drill? Check. Letter of Intent, the previous bane of my existence now written and officially amazing? Hell yes, Check (Thanks Nicole!). Three letters of recommendation from professors or associates in the field? Che--, well, not so much. I've confirmed with two of the three that they sent in their letters, so huge mop up of the sweaty brow there. The only thing remaining for me to worry about is this third floater. He's known to be unresponsive and slow with getting these things in, but for the ones he does write a letter for, he rocks it. I decided to take the gamble (Honestly, he's the only one I made an effort to get to know, so my options were basically him or him. But he really is super nice and ridiculously smart, he being my option is a good struggle). So I'm currently on Operation: Harass-A-Professor. I am pathetically emailing and leaving voicemail messages on his office phone with the hope that he will get tired of seeing my email address and hearing my trying-to-be-sweet-while-gently-browbeating-him voice on his phone. The pain will end for him and for me once he just prints out that letter, gets up from his chair, walks about 30 feet down the hall and hands it in. Cross fingers!

Beck - "Timebomb"


Update: He emailed today and said it would be sent in on time. Huzzah!

Kitschy Will Be the Death of Me

The Catalog Favorites magazine came in yesterday, and while quickly skimming through the pages it made me stop to contemplate. This genre of magazine has for awhile now been gnawing at me, slowly chipping away at my spirit and hopes for my future as a kick-ass 40 year old woman. It's that magazine that sells all of that middle aged crap like "Sleep Is The New Sex" or "Time Flies When You Are Having Rum!" t-shirts that only come in XXL, the tacky turquoise coral and shell caftan that they actually have the balls to describe as sensual, or the Fanny Bank where it makes "amusing sounds" when coins are deposited in the rear end. I know there are people out there that do order from these magazines because they've been mailing those suckers for a long time now. I just need to know this: Does your brain turn to dull and unfunny mush when you hit the age of 40 and on? What compels a woman, who was at one time 20 years old and would never ever have purchased any of this junk, to buy a Fartmaster Key Chain that comes with six realistic flatulent sounds? I fear for what will become of me, and that is why I have made a pact with Sean. I will provide the loaded shotgun and he will pull the trigger to end any potential embarrassment and/or misery that would directly stem from buying a "Sometimes I Pee When I Laugh" t-shirt.

Ryan Adams - "I Taught Myself To Grow Old"


The New Pornographers - "Challengers"

Panic Button A Go

I just submitted my technical Graduate School application. Now on to finishing my Letter of Intent and bugging my professors to get those recommendation letters written. Three weeks left.

Breathe...

Alexi Murdoch - Breathe