Go figure. I knew it would be tough. I just never thought I'd have to be asking questions such as, "What edition of this work am I reading? What biases has the editor imposed upon this text? What the hell is hegemony?"
Yeah, that's what I get to muddle over. Ph.D. does real things, apparently.
Sorry this is sparse. I have homework. Yay!
Tuesday, September 18, 2012
Tuesday, August 14, 2012
Facebook is Becoming Pinterest and It Has to Fucking Stop
Yesterday, I once again felt that weird, mildly disgusting visceral combined reaction. You know the one I'm talking about. You know what it feels like to sort of vomit up a "Congratulations" to friends and acquaintances as they cross a "milestone" in their lives. You know that while you're forcefully gushing about the centerpieces or the crib, there is a wicked little voice in the back of your skull whispering, "You're not fucking good enough. You're a piece of shit. You're 21 and you're not married or having kids. Go home and kill yourself." At the same time as you feel slightly, OK a lot, sorry for yourself, you get the other reaction, that phenomenon of "I'm supposed to be really happy for you but I can't completely devote my entire amount of happiness to you because you're hurting my pride." After that, then you feel a crushing guilt at being a bad friend and you drink an entire bottle of wine and watch Doctor Who because you not-so-secretly beg to be punished for your ineptitude.
A married couple of unequivocal beauty and love welcomed their first child into the world. Facebook and Twitter exploded with joy, well wishes, "What a beautiful baby!"-ies, and wonderment at the miracle of life. And yes, it is wonderful that these two people who love each other are starting to build a family. I get it. That's something we're all apparently supposed to do. Grow up, get jobs, get married, have babies, yell, pretend to love your in-laws, and then die.
People of the world, both men and women, please listen up: FUCKING STOP IT WITH THE BABIES, THE RINGS, THE "I'M MARRYING MY BEST FRIEND'S," THE FRILLS, THE CAKES, AND ALL THE OTHER PASTEL SHIT. It's become a rather revolting sensation. Honestly, sometimes I feel like we as a culture have gone back to the 50's, where the only thing to be proud of was if you were in your early twenties, met your spouse in college, dropped out of college, got married, hired a maid, and then popped out three kids within three-to-five years. I am really curious as to what the hell happened to being on your own, traveling, experiencing new things, and actually enjoying your young adult life, while your skin is still taught, your dick still works, and your tits are still perky, before introducing pastels into your decor (by the way, pastels are also colors that need to die).
If you want to blow up my newsfeed with your frilly shit, that's your prerogative. I could ignore it, but then I'd basically have less than 12 people to really talk to, because the very few of us have actually gotten over ourselves to tolerate someone else's nonsense. Being a semi-independent twenty-something has become something of a taboo. It's as if there's a snotty woman somewhere in an urban area, say L.A., proclaiming, "You're nothing special if you haven't married and divorced by age 26." Sure, I happen to be in a relationship of sorts. I don't know if I love the guy, nor if he loves me, but I'd like to figure that out without allowing Facebook the chance to weigh in on that. You know, being able to handle my relationship problems with the person in which I share that relationship, as opposed to blasting it all over cyberspace.
My greatest accomplishment to this day is actually somehow securing a 1-in-18 spot in this year's Masters of Arts in English Literature Program at George Mason University. Not to brag or anything, but it was tough to make it there. Really tough. I'd like to consider not killing myself an accomplishment, along with being comfortable with my body, surviving a gigantic cyst on my ovary, accepting the fact that I probably will never be able to even be a mother, graduating college, and meeting a man who doesn't seem to mind being two states away from me. However, there isn't a Hallmark aisle for any of that. There isn't a celebration for, "Hey, you can't have kids, which means you can almost definitely hike in Sri Lanka if you so choose!"
This has been a very disorganized rant and bitchfest. I know this. Just please give the world a break. While you're off creating unnecessary spawn in a very overpopulated world, my boyfriend is uncovering the secrets of the universe and I am deciphering the human condition. Where's my MA shower?
Oh, and for the couple who got married recently and neglected to invite me, remember this: you two would probably have never met had it not been for me. It's OK, though. I'm not mad about missing The Dark Knight Rises, then getting hit on by lesbians on the Metro.
~M
A married couple of unequivocal beauty and love welcomed their first child into the world. Facebook and Twitter exploded with joy, well wishes, "What a beautiful baby!"-ies, and wonderment at the miracle of life. And yes, it is wonderful that these two people who love each other are starting to build a family. I get it. That's something we're all apparently supposed to do. Grow up, get jobs, get married, have babies, yell, pretend to love your in-laws, and then die.
People of the world, both men and women, please listen up: FUCKING STOP IT WITH THE BABIES, THE RINGS, THE "I'M MARRYING MY BEST FRIEND'S," THE FRILLS, THE CAKES, AND ALL THE OTHER PASTEL SHIT. It's become a rather revolting sensation. Honestly, sometimes I feel like we as a culture have gone back to the 50's, where the only thing to be proud of was if you were in your early twenties, met your spouse in college, dropped out of college, got married, hired a maid, and then popped out three kids within three-to-five years. I am really curious as to what the hell happened to being on your own, traveling, experiencing new things, and actually enjoying your young adult life, while your skin is still taught, your dick still works, and your tits are still perky, before introducing pastels into your decor (by the way, pastels are also colors that need to die).
If you want to blow up my newsfeed with your frilly shit, that's your prerogative. I could ignore it, but then I'd basically have less than 12 people to really talk to, because the very few of us have actually gotten over ourselves to tolerate someone else's nonsense. Being a semi-independent twenty-something has become something of a taboo. It's as if there's a snotty woman somewhere in an urban area, say L.A., proclaiming, "You're nothing special if you haven't married and divorced by age 26." Sure, I happen to be in a relationship of sorts. I don't know if I love the guy, nor if he loves me, but I'd like to figure that out without allowing Facebook the chance to weigh in on that. You know, being able to handle my relationship problems with the person in which I share that relationship, as opposed to blasting it all over cyberspace.
My greatest accomplishment to this day is actually somehow securing a 1-in-18 spot in this year's Masters of Arts in English Literature Program at George Mason University. Not to brag or anything, but it was tough to make it there. Really tough. I'd like to consider not killing myself an accomplishment, along with being comfortable with my body, surviving a gigantic cyst on my ovary, accepting the fact that I probably will never be able to even be a mother, graduating college, and meeting a man who doesn't seem to mind being two states away from me. However, there isn't a Hallmark aisle for any of that. There isn't a celebration for, "Hey, you can't have kids, which means you can almost definitely hike in Sri Lanka if you so choose!"
This has been a very disorganized rant and bitchfest. I know this. Just please give the world a break. While you're off creating unnecessary spawn in a very overpopulated world, my boyfriend is uncovering the secrets of the universe and I am deciphering the human condition. Where's my MA shower?
Oh, and for the couple who got married recently and neglected to invite me, remember this: you two would probably have never met had it not been for me. It's OK, though. I'm not mad about missing The Dark Knight Rises, then getting hit on by lesbians on the Metro.
~M
Thursday, July 26, 2012
Weighing In on Some Issues
A lot has happened in the wake of controversy; rarely will I weigh in with my opinion on these kind of issues, but I am a bitchy American female, and I've been told that I have an opinion on everything.
I'd first like to address the fiasco of Chick-fil-A supporting anti-gay groups. Honestly, why is everyone surprised that a company based out of Atlanta, Georgia, doesn't support homosexuality? The franchise maintains its Christian values by closing on Sundays; coincidentally, that's pretty much the only time I actively crave the taste of that sammich. The current CEO of the franchise is a devout Southern Baptist, and we all know how tolerant those people are of "alternative lifestyles." No, it's not really shocking or groundbreaking that a franchise from the South doesn't support the gay lifestyle. Don't eat the soggy sammich if it kills your soul, but also don't just sit and bitch about it. Trust me, Southern people are annoyingly stubborn and no matter how many people actually complain about Chick-fil-A, the company will not change. Not really. The First Amendment, as well as the capitalist nature of the country, allows a business operator to conduct business and religion as s/he sees fit. Instead of placing the blame on the sammiches, just focus energy on the politicians themselves. Put pressure on those bastards (looking at you, Santorum) to finally come to grips with reality and accept that straight people can coexist comfortably with gay people as equal human beings. Will I eat there ever again? No, but that's mainly because I am trying to eat better and fight the sedentary lifestyle. And I also believe that love should be the basis on marriage, not your sexuality.
Sally Ride passed the way yesterday at age 61, after battling pancreatic cancer for less than two years. I wrote a biography of her in elementary school because she was a seriously cool woman. She was the first American female astronaut, OK? That's incredible. She's a heroine and amazing and I bet she was a weird, dorky little kid with big dreams of the stars. She just did her own thing and explored outer space, starting in 1983. Not only was she the first female astronaut, she was also, and still remains, the youngest American to enter outer space. However, she is a heroine for yet another reason: in her obituary, she publicly. The phrase is succinct and to the point: "She is survived by Tam O’Shaughnessy, her partner of 27 years." That's just beautiful. Sally Ride, badass to the end.
Finally, the NCAA President announced the Penn State football program provisions this past Monday at 9 AM. We all know what they are:
I must say that I'm very pleased that the current students have the option to transfer without penalty, because if not, it would severely hurt their chances of being recruited to the NFL and all that mess. They deserve a chance. It's not like these students were touching little boys.
We should have gone medieval on Sandusky. Period. Paterno is already dead, so that takes care of that, but Sandusky should be publicly punished. Corporally. His wife was disgraceful: how could she not know and defend her husband in the wake of 48 accounts of abuse? The people involved need to be severely punished, and I think that the $60 million should come from all of their liquidated assets.
Now, that was very emotional. I'll go drink more coffee and stare at this picture of a husky puppy.
I'd first like to address the fiasco of Chick-fil-A supporting anti-gay groups. Honestly, why is everyone surprised that a company based out of Atlanta, Georgia, doesn't support homosexuality? The franchise maintains its Christian values by closing on Sundays; coincidentally, that's pretty much the only time I actively crave the taste of that sammich. The current CEO of the franchise is a devout Southern Baptist, and we all know how tolerant those people are of "alternative lifestyles." No, it's not really shocking or groundbreaking that a franchise from the South doesn't support the gay lifestyle. Don't eat the soggy sammich if it kills your soul, but also don't just sit and bitch about it. Trust me, Southern people are annoyingly stubborn and no matter how many people actually complain about Chick-fil-A, the company will not change. Not really. The First Amendment, as well as the capitalist nature of the country, allows a business operator to conduct business and religion as s/he sees fit. Instead of placing the blame on the sammiches, just focus energy on the politicians themselves. Put pressure on those bastards (looking at you, Santorum) to finally come to grips with reality and accept that straight people can coexist comfortably with gay people as equal human beings. Will I eat there ever again? No, but that's mainly because I am trying to eat better and fight the sedentary lifestyle. And I also believe that love should be the basis on marriage, not your sexuality.
Sally Ride passed the way yesterday at age 61, after battling pancreatic cancer for less than two years. I wrote a biography of her in elementary school because she was a seriously cool woman. She was the first American female astronaut, OK? That's incredible. She's a heroine and amazing and I bet she was a weird, dorky little kid with big dreams of the stars. She just did her own thing and explored outer space, starting in 1983. Not only was she the first female astronaut, she was also, and still remains, the youngest American to enter outer space. However, she is a heroine for yet another reason: in her obituary, she publicly. The phrase is succinct and to the point: "She is survived by Tam O’Shaughnessy, her partner of 27 years." That's just beautiful. Sally Ride, badass to the end.
Finally, the NCAA President announced the Penn State football program provisions this past Monday at 9 AM. We all know what they are:
- A $60 million fine that must go to charities supporting child protection
- A four-year Bowl ban
- A five-year probation period
- A reduction of scholarships from 25 to 15 over the next four years
- All victories from 1998-2011 have been vacated.
I must say that I'm very pleased that the current students have the option to transfer without penalty, because if not, it would severely hurt their chances of being recruited to the NFL and all that mess. They deserve a chance. It's not like these students were touching little boys.
We should have gone medieval on Sandusky. Period. Paterno is already dead, so that takes care of that, but Sandusky should be publicly punished. Corporally. His wife was disgraceful: how could she not know and defend her husband in the wake of 48 accounts of abuse? The people involved need to be severely punished, and I think that the $60 million should come from all of their liquidated assets.
Now, that was very emotional. I'll go drink more coffee and stare at this picture of a husky puppy.
Thursday, July 12, 2012
Twenty Questions Men Have About "Fifty Shades of Grey"
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Sunday, July 8, 2012
It's 2:21 AM
and I was just roused by a text from a person that I legitimately cannot stand.
That has to be a punishment from at least the secondary Circle of Hell. I was nodding off, blissfully ignorant of all around me, PhD's voice still clear from our conversation, la de DA, when this number glares at my screen with a less than pleasant text message.
This situation is a rather messy one, far too complicated to explain, and instead of dealing with it, I choose to bury it. I know, it's so healthy. My mother suggested to me, long ago, to cut out negative people from my life and this particular individual is equivalent to my personal cancer; when s/he decided to cuss me out when my grandfather had just died, I'd had enough and never spoke to him/her again. This also led me to delete his/her phone number from my cell phone.
How did I know that the text message in question came from this particular person? Tone, context, and a healthy dose of accusatory language, consistent of this "adult."
To be judicious, I'd been less than pleasant to him/her before. I acknowledge that and have actually worked up the courage to put my Big Girl Panties on and actually apologize to this person. I really do want to tell them that I am truly remorseful for being unfairly awful to them before and that I am happy that s/he is able to make their SO happy. I actually, like a real idiot, crafted a brief apology letter to this person.
This individual and I have not spoken to each other for a year, and s/he decides to break that unwritten contract by unearthing the past. I don't know why, nor do I particularly care. Well, I guess I do care, considering I just wrote this in response to the event. I'd greatly appreciate being able to properly move on and get a decent night's sleep, though. In this one instance, I'd like to think that ignorance really is bliss.
What's important for me is to focus my attention on the future. Overall, today was a good day. I did laundry, went to an excellent cookout, and saw Magic Mike. My internship is going well enough and I have been getting along amicably with my colleagues. I start graduate school classes relatively soon. My boyfriend, and yes it's unsettling to say that, visited me for Independence Day. PhD wants to whisk me away for a romantic beach trip, which is surprising, as well as a few other things he has in mind; it's so insanely sexy for a man to take charge and be spontaneous, especially since I get dragged down into monotony so quickly.
This person is in the past, where they shall remain to enjoy their life. I shall blissfully exist cancer-free.
That has to be a punishment from at least the secondary Circle of Hell. I was nodding off, blissfully ignorant of all around me, PhD's voice still clear from our conversation, la de DA, when this number glares at my screen with a less than pleasant text message.
This situation is a rather messy one, far too complicated to explain, and instead of dealing with it, I choose to bury it. I know, it's so healthy. My mother suggested to me, long ago, to cut out negative people from my life and this particular individual is equivalent to my personal cancer; when s/he decided to cuss me out when my grandfather had just died, I'd had enough and never spoke to him/her again. This also led me to delete his/her phone number from my cell phone.
How did I know that the text message in question came from this particular person? Tone, context, and a healthy dose of accusatory language, consistent of this "adult."
To be judicious, I'd been less than pleasant to him/her before. I acknowledge that and have actually worked up the courage to put my Big Girl Panties on and actually apologize to this person. I really do want to tell them that I am truly remorseful for being unfairly awful to them before and that I am happy that s/he is able to make their SO happy. I actually, like a real idiot, crafted a brief apology letter to this person.
This individual and I have not spoken to each other for a year, and s/he decides to break that unwritten contract by unearthing the past. I don't know why, nor do I particularly care. Well, I guess I do care, considering I just wrote this in response to the event. I'd greatly appreciate being able to properly move on and get a decent night's sleep, though. In this one instance, I'd like to think that ignorance really is bliss.
What's important for me is to focus my attention on the future. Overall, today was a good day. I did laundry, went to an excellent cookout, and saw Magic Mike. My internship is going well enough and I have been getting along amicably with my colleagues. I start graduate school classes relatively soon. My boyfriend, and yes it's unsettling to say that, visited me for Independence Day. PhD wants to whisk me away for a romantic beach trip, which is surprising, as well as a few other things he has in mind; it's so insanely sexy for a man to take charge and be spontaneous, especially since I get dragged down into monotony so quickly.
This person is in the past, where they shall remain to enjoy their life. I shall blissfully exist cancer-free.
Monday, July 2, 2012
What I Want to Be When I Grow Up
I want to be Joan Harris from Mad Men. There. I said it.
Television has given us many strong women over the years but I do believe that Miss Joan Harris is the dream woman, and not just for dudes either (she's played by Christina Hendricks, who is probably the only woman I would go lesbian for).
Honestly, look at this woman! She has one of the best figures on the planet and brings back the hourglass shape in full force, making us curvy girls ridiculously happy.
Not only that, but her character is so expertly written. She starts out as the office manager at Sterling Cooper and does basically everything: charms the pants off all the men, calmly handles crisis situations, gets rid of bitches in the office gracefully, and teaches Peggy how to dress for success in the man's world.
And damn, is this one of the best dressed characters on TV? If you don't watch the show, at least look up some of her ensembles. It is one of my goals in life to model my wardrobe in accordance to her style, though a little more modern than the 1960's.
I just had a bit of a fangirl moment. I've had a lot of those lately, what with the Olympic Trials for USA Swimming, Magic Mike, and rereading the Millennium trilogy.
I'm going to go embrace my curves. PHD is coming to visit tomorrow so hopefully he can embrace my curves, too. NAILED IT!
~M
Television has given us many strong women over the years but I do believe that Miss Joan Harris is the dream woman, and not just for dudes either (she's played by Christina Hendricks, who is probably the only woman I would go lesbian for).
Honestly, look at this woman! She has one of the best figures on the planet and brings back the hourglass shape in full force, making us curvy girls ridiculously happy.
Not only that, but her character is so expertly written. She starts out as the office manager at Sterling Cooper and does basically everything: charms the pants off all the men, calmly handles crisis situations, gets rid of bitches in the office gracefully, and teaches Peggy how to dress for success in the man's world.
And damn, is this one of the best dressed characters on TV? If you don't watch the show, at least look up some of her ensembles. It is one of my goals in life to model my wardrobe in accordance to her style, though a little more modern than the 1960's.
I just had a bit of a fangirl moment. I've had a lot of those lately, what with the Olympic Trials for USA Swimming, Magic Mike, and rereading the Millennium trilogy.
I'm going to go embrace my curves. PHD is coming to visit tomorrow so hopefully he can embrace my curves, too. NAILED IT!
~M
Monday, June 25, 2012
Second Coffee Refuel
Currently, I do believe this beverage could have a Red Bull or two in it, just to ensure that I stay awake long enough to actually make it home tonight. No, I didn't rage last night. In fact, I've become a rather dull, boring, lame adult. I'm Ted Mosby when I aspire to be Robin Scherbatsky.
Right, whatever with that.
I suppose I should at least sort of clarify who PHD is, considering I might be mentioning him more from time to time. We met at a mutual friend's wedding; rather, we met at the reception after-party to play Finish The Drinks. Something about me that night made him want to actually talk to me (imagine: a man making the first move): it could have been that I was shit-housed, wearing a very tight Nyan cat shirt with tight jeans, I was high on female wedding endorphins/desperation, or perhaps a combination of all three. Either way, he just started chatting me up, even though in that moment I probably wasn't in prime chatting up condition.
Look, open bars are about 50% I go to weddings in the first place.
Anyway, so he sent me a friend request on Facebook and we kept in touch through that medium. He studies physics at a university in PA at the Ph.D. level, hence the pseudonym PHD. When I received notification of my acceptance to graduate school, he was among the first to congratulate me. Our conversations following that occasion turned a tad more flirtatious, to the point where he was at my apartment's front door the night after graduation. He stayed for two nights with me and we reached an agreement: we were going to see how the summer went with the distance and such. I had made plans to drive up to PA to visit him but reality got in the way.
See, accepting this internship was a major step up for me from where I was. However, it gave my very little to move out of my apartment in Blacksburg and into my aunt's place in DC. The only days in which this task could be accomplished were the days that I had planned on heading up to visit him. Unfortunately, my trip to the North (yes, PA is north of the Mason-Dixon line. Know your US history) will be put on hold until September, and I feel really terrible about that. I want to visit him, not just because I like him but also because it's fair.
PHD has decided to come down to DC to celebrate Independence Day with me, which is pretty cool. He's also indicated coming down for my 22nd birthday.
I guess I should just come out with it: he asked me to be his girlfriend. Surprisingly, I'm OK with this. I don't mind the distance because both of us are going to be crazy-busy with graduate school classes. Plus, I don't need to talk to him everyday. Perhaps I have reached the level of maturity in order to maintain this sort of thing.
"Love is like a fart. If you have to force it, it's probably shit." I'm going to let this develop organically.
~M
Right, whatever with that.
I suppose I should at least sort of clarify who PHD is, considering I might be mentioning him more from time to time. We met at a mutual friend's wedding; rather, we met at the reception after-party to play Finish The Drinks. Something about me that night made him want to actually talk to me (imagine: a man making the first move): it could have been that I was shit-housed, wearing a very tight Nyan cat shirt with tight jeans, I was high on female wedding endorphins/desperation, or perhaps a combination of all three. Either way, he just started chatting me up, even though in that moment I probably wasn't in prime chatting up condition.
Look, open bars are about 50% I go to weddings in the first place.
Anyway, so he sent me a friend request on Facebook and we kept in touch through that medium. He studies physics at a university in PA at the Ph.D. level, hence the pseudonym PHD. When I received notification of my acceptance to graduate school, he was among the first to congratulate me. Our conversations following that occasion turned a tad more flirtatious, to the point where he was at my apartment's front door the night after graduation. He stayed for two nights with me and we reached an agreement: we were going to see how the summer went with the distance and such. I had made plans to drive up to PA to visit him but reality got in the way.
See, accepting this internship was a major step up for me from where I was. However, it gave my very little to move out of my apartment in Blacksburg and into my aunt's place in DC. The only days in which this task could be accomplished were the days that I had planned on heading up to visit him. Unfortunately, my trip to the North (yes, PA is north of the Mason-Dixon line. Know your US history) will be put on hold until September, and I feel really terrible about that. I want to visit him, not just because I like him but also because it's fair.
PHD has decided to come down to DC to celebrate Independence Day with me, which is pretty cool. He's also indicated coming down for my 22nd birthday.
I guess I should just come out with it: he asked me to be his girlfriend. Surprisingly, I'm OK with this. I don't mind the distance because both of us are going to be crazy-busy with graduate school classes. Plus, I don't need to talk to him everyday. Perhaps I have reached the level of maturity in order to maintain this sort of thing.
"Love is like a fart. If you have to force it, it's probably shit." I'm going to let this develop organically.
~M
Tuesday, June 19, 2012
Top Ten Tips to Being a Successful Summer Intern in Northern Virginia, or Really Anywhere
One of the new and exciting (note the sarcasm) ways to spend
your summer is to be an intern. Who
would want to give up three months of tanning, hottie-hunting, and lemonade
sipping and transplant into the yuppie lifestyle? Unfortunately, if you have any dream of
landing a job in this economic downturn, prepare yourself for the trials and
tribulations of the summer internship.
Some of you lucky ladies will land a fabulous position at a
fabulous office in a fabulous city doing fabulous things. Congratulations to you all are due. For the vast majority of us, though, summer
internships are tough, especially if the internships are anywhere in Northern
Virginia, or NOVA. Maybe you’re not
resigned to fetching coffee for the full-time employees, but no matter the
field (unless you’re one of those forestry majors), you are going to be kept
inside on beautiful sunny days on a strict 9-to-5 schedule and to complain
about that fact is career potential suicide.
So how can you, a bright, young, lovely woman navigate
your way through the confusing territory that is your summer internship? From one intern to you, I give you my best
tools to use, even though many of them are just plain, old-fashioned common
sense.
- Know your company. Yes, you awkwardly shook the recruiter’s hand back at the internship/co-op fair, spilled copies of your resume all over his/her feet, and stumbled over your elevator speech (or perhaps that was just me), but despite all of that, you landed a spot with their summer internship program. You researched the company just enough to get by during the interview process and that must have been sufficient. Now, however, you are going to be side-by-side with the Man/Woman and the full-time employees. Rather than be shell-shocked on your first day, prepare yourself a bit by going on the company’s website and reading their content. Bonus points if you are able to find any press releases regarding your company’s breakthroughs in the industry. Trust me, the people in charge will notice that you’ve prepared. Think of it as though you’re preparing for any pop quiz that your nasty 8 AM professor throws at you.
- Prepare your body. Hopefully, you receive notification from your company far enough in advance so you have enough time to plan, pack, and adjust your sleep schedule. Give yourself at least one week before your first day to train your sleep schedule from college mode (i.e. 11 AM – 3 AM) to yuppie mode (6:30 AM – 11 PM). The last thing you want to happen is to fall asleep during a senior level employee’s presentation on education market trends through the 21st century.
- Learn your commute. If you’re navigating anywhere in NOVA and you absolutely have to face Route 66, know right now that you are going to spend the majority of your commute sitting on this highway. Learn everything you can about your commute before you even start: how many miles, what are the traffic patterns, what are the alternative routes, and how much gas do you use. For those of you who are lucky enough to work close to a Metro station, know that I am supremely jealous.
- Organize your wardrobe. Put away any shirt you wore to a highlighter party, case race, or a football game and dig out cardigans, camisoles, khakis, flats, and anything you could wear to a church. Learn how to put different pieces together that make you appear professional yet young: if you dress like you’re fifty, your superiors will scratch their heads. Also, start shopping at Marshalls or Ross because these stores have working-girl gems at slashed prices. Invest in two suits: one charcoal grey and one black. At this stage, go for a skirt suit: they’re flirtier and easily transition to evening wear with the right accessories.
- Learn how to walk in high heels. I have to thank my mother every day for so many things in my life but I must say, her torturous practice of making me walk with a dictionary on my head while standing on my tiptoes was one of the best things she has done for me. This is a skill that will serve you for a lifetime. It’s important to realize that no matter what, someone is watching you and if you happen to be clomping around in stilettos because it’s your first time breaking them in, everyone will know it. Practice in your apartment and have your girlfriends judge you. Better yet, turn it into an America’s Next Top Model-themed party. Incorporate your new working-girl wardrobe into the event for an even more fun and productive night.
- Don’t go nuts at the first happy hour. On the first day of the summer internship, many companies treat the bright, new faces to a day of food and drink. Generally, the company will take you all out to lunch and then, at the end of the day, to happy hour. Someone from the company will utter these beautiful words: “The drinks are on us.” Stop while you’re ahead. Just because the bar offers three dollar Long Islands (I miss Sharkeys, if you couldn’t tell) does not mean you have to drink them. If you are of age, stick to either two beers or one mixed drink. Sip that and meet the people whom you will spend the majority of the summer. At my internship’s first happy hour, I met the CEO of the company and had a pleasant conversation with him. Now, he and I email regularly to discuss my assignments and how I can improve my work for the benefit of the company. Meet and mingle, have fun, but remember that you’re still at work.
- Resist the urge to complain aloud to anyone. I hate to tell you this, but you are at the bottom of the food chain this summer. You are going to get tasks that seem tedious and redundant. Things are going to get overwhelming. A full-time employee might snap at you and say something that doesn’t sit too well with you. The difference between you and them is a fundamental one: they are on the payroll and you are not. This internship could lead to something much better, or at least something full time. This is a gift, an opportunity, and you have to treat every employee as if they could fire you. Apply every rule Miss Manners gave you and always respond with, “Yes, Sir/Ma’am.” If you do happen to screw up, even a tiny bit, own it and tell your supervisor. It is far better to apologize and acknowledge than to hide it and delegate the mistake to someone else. Just be cool, do your work, and if you really must complain, text your BFF or your BF.
- Keep your hands and workstation clean. I’m a notorious nail biter, but since I started working in an office and not in a grocery store/farm/band closet, I’ve had to learn to stop doing that. Again, you as an intern are going to be watched and everything about you will be scrutinized. You don’t want to shake your boss’s hand with a hangnail, right? The same rule applies for your work station. The company is allowing you to use their property and it’s incredibly important to treat it with respect. Plus, you don’t want your boss or colleagues to think you’re a sloppy mess all the time, right?
- Do your dishes. You’d be surprised as to how many people cannot seem to accomplish this task. I have a coffee mug and sometimes I will use a plate. Two things to wash. Apply soap to sponge, scrub food bits away until they are removed from surface, rinse, place in dish rack to dry. It’s an incredibly simple process and if you do your dishes as you go, you won’t run the risk of having them get nasty and/or plastered all over http://www.happyplace.com/10430/the-most-enjoyably-cantankerous-notes-ever-posted-in-the-workplace
- Take your lunch, don’t take work home with you, and simply enjoy this valuable experience! I know, there are three crammed into one; I lost space. First, take your lunch: you’ll learn to cook and save money. Second, don’t take your work home with you: you are an intern and unless your description says “must be available 24/7,” don’t do it at home. It’s important to maintain balance in your life. It’s still summertime, ok? You should at least enjoy the summer evenings and catch lightning bugs or something. Finally, smile and enjoy at what you’re doing! You are getting ahead in your career field, boosting your resume, meeting new people in both your peer group and in the hiring generation, and most importantly you are learning if this is something that you want to do for the rest of your life. It’s a big deal and be proud of yourself.
I hope that you have found these tips helpful. Now, if you will excuse me, I have to go to
the Kuerig machine and get my second Chai Latte.
I Should Probably Explain
For all two of my listed followers (OMG lyke I'm so famous! If I ever speak like this, shoot me please), it may be noticed that I use pseudonyms for real people in my life. This is for the obvious reason that I have no desire to become tangled up in legality issues for libel or whatever. Anyway, here are three of the most recent characters taking part in my so-called "life story."
Sarcasm alert.
~M
- Aunt C. - my godmother who has graciously allowed me to crash on her couch in DC until I move in to my new townhouse. Yeah, sorry if anyone got the impression that I live here on my own. I can barely afford a Metrocard, let alone a co-op payment in the Waterfront. She's my role model, is wicked smart, and the best mentor I could ask for during this transition period.
- RePub - short for "Republican." Everyone's got one or two of them in their group of friends, right? He and I have known each for eight years now and we've finally gotten the chance to catch up and hang out as old friends. No, nothing sexual has ever happened, nor will ever happen, between us. He lives near Aunt C.'s co-op and we try to hang out on the weekends. It's fun.
- PhD - trying to describe this man is a near impossibility. To start, he will be starting his third year of his Ph.D program this fall. He's getting his Ph.D in physics, which is seriously hot (it is no secret that I am a sucker for the nerdiest of the nerds). We met at a mutual friend's wedding and have been talking for a while. More on this situation to come.
Sarcasm alert.
~M
Monday, June 18, 2012
Same Lame Facebook Survey That I Steal From the Bear Jew
I think my supervisor needs to understand that if she doesn't give me something to do, I will just sit at this computer and do random, piddly-ass things.
My current life in 64 questions:
1. What was the highlight of your day?
My day isn't quite over but it will probably be meeting with my new roommates at Starbucks.
2. Who's car were you in last?
Mine, Miss Molly CR-V
3. When is the next time you are going to kiss someone?
July 3rd. Yay Ph.D!
4. What color shirt are you wearing-?
navy blue cami with a gray cardigan over top of it
5. How long is your hair?
medium-length, or so they say at hair salons.
6. Last movie you watched?
The Swedish version of The Girl who Kicked the Hornet's Nest
7. Last thing you ate?
pasta for lunch
8. Last thing you drank?
coffee *shocker*
9. Where did you sleep last night?
on the sofa bed in my aunt's co-op
trust me, this isn't a super glamorous summer, but I am staying in DC for free because my aunt loves me a lot so it's semi-OK.
10. Are you happy right now?
I'm rather safe and figuring things out so I'd have to say that I'm content.
11. What did you say last?
"Hi, [insert coworker's name]"
12. Where is your phone?
on my desk, to my right, next to an empty coffee mug.
13. What was the last museum you went to?
National Gallery of Art...no wait, the Flag House and Star-Spangled Banner Museum, where the flag that inspired our national anthem was sewn. Yeah, that flag that flew over Fort McHenry during the Battle of Baltimore in the War of 1812. Fun fact: the house is smaller than the flag itself.
14. What color are your eyes?
this answer doesn't change. They are blue.
15. Who came over last?
to the co-op? We didn't have any visitors.
16. Last time you had your heart broken?
long enough to no longer have a need to comment on the event. I'm better because of it, so thank you to all the mistakes.
17. Who/what do you hate/dislike currently?
Kim Kardashian. She is the devil.
18. What are you listening to?
the general sounds of computers and office labor
19. If you could have one thing right now what would it be?
A real job, with insurance, tuition reimbursement, and paid time off.
Or a security clearance, whichever.
20. What is the best smell?
I can't decide between New Car, Gasoline, Bath and Body Works, or the Clean Man smell. By the way, the Clean Man smell is that delicious scent of your lover right out of the shower. It's perfection.
21. Who is always there when you need someone to talk to?
they know who they are
22. What were you doing at midnight last night?
passing the hell out...which sounds so lame now but it's the truth.
23. Are you left-handed?
still right-handed
24. What's for dinner tonight?
probably an overpriced latte
25. What is the last alcoholic beverage you had?
glass of Riesling while watching the Blue Angels be epic
26. When Is Your Birthday?
still 08.25.
27. Who was the last person to send you a text message?
Repub
29. Where was the last place you went shopping?
Victoria's Secret. Semi-annual sale: buying a $60 at 50% off.
I don't think my breasts have ever looked this good.
30. How do you feel about your hair right now?
it's clean, it's brushed, it's blonde
31. Do you have any expensive jewelry?
yup: old birthday and Christmas presents, class ring, etc.
32. AIM or MSN?
Skype, Facebook Chat, Twitter.
33. Where does most of your family live?
Texas
34. Are you an only child or do you have siblings?
One little sister, who is turning 18 in August. What the fuck?
35. Would you consider yourself to be spoiled?
Compared to a lot of people on the planet, absolutely.
36. What was the first thing you thought when you woke up?
Shit, it's 7 AM...how fast can I shower and put on makeup?
37. Do you drink beer?
this is a stupid question. Of course I do
38. Myspace or Facebook?
Facebook. Does anyone even use Myspace?
40. What is/was your favorite subject in school?
...I'm not sure how to respond to that, considering that for the rest of my life, I will be taking mostly English classes.
41. What type of boy/girl do you usually fall for?
If my past is anything to go by, an unmotivated jackass. However, I think things have finally taken a turn for the better...I like guys in grad school, especially for science.
42. Do you have any hidden talents?
they're not hidden
43. Have you ever been in a wedding?
Yes
44. Do you have any children?
Disgusting
45. Did you take a nap today?
no
46. Ever met someone famous?
Frank Beamer, Charles Steger, Dr. Torgersen, Bryan Bratt...I think that's it so far.
47. Do you want to be famous one day?
noteworthy is the term I'd like to use
48. Are you multitasking right now?
If pretending to work counts, then sure
49. Could you handle being in the military?
probably not
50. What is your average cell phone bill?
reasonable
51. Do you believe in Karma?
hahahahahaha oh yes
52. Ever been to Las Vegas?
nope
53. What are you doing today?
"worked," Starbucks date soon, then Gordon Ramsay-watching, then perhaps a chat with PhD, then pass the hell out.
54. Have you ever been gambling?
yup, every year for the Derby
56. Have you been to New York City?
yes
57. Ever been to Disneyland/world?
yes and I have no intention of returning
58. Do you have a favorite cartoon character?
I do
59. Last thing you cooked?
pasta
60. Stupidest thing you ever did with your cell phone?
anything involving alcohol, text messages, and old boyfriends qualifies as something incredibly stupid.
61. Last time you were sick?
earlier in the month, I got my annual summer sinus infection. This time, it struck during one of our first meetings as new interns, which fucking sucked.
62. Last person you kissed?
PhD
63. Random fact about you?
I have read the Fifty Shades of Grey trilogy and I do not want a mainstream film adaptation made from it. Look, it's basically porn, right? Therefore, James Deen should play Grey and Stoya should play Anastasia. And any thirteen-year-old Tumblr user who disagrees with me should not know who these people are and go play JV sports.
That might have been a rant.
64. Do you think anybody will repost this?
I highly doubt it.
My current life in 64 questions:
1. What was the highlight of your day?
My day isn't quite over but it will probably be meeting with my new roommates at Starbucks.
2. Who's car were you in last?
Mine, Miss Molly CR-V
3. When is the next time you are going to kiss someone?
July 3rd. Yay Ph.D!
4. What color shirt are you wearing-?
navy blue cami with a gray cardigan over top of it
5. How long is your hair?
medium-length, or so they say at hair salons.
6. Last movie you watched?
The Swedish version of The Girl who Kicked the Hornet's Nest
7. Last thing you ate?
pasta for lunch
8. Last thing you drank?
coffee *shocker*
9. Where did you sleep last night?
on the sofa bed in my aunt's co-op
trust me, this isn't a super glamorous summer, but I am staying in DC for free because my aunt loves me a lot so it's semi-OK.
10. Are you happy right now?
I'm rather safe and figuring things out so I'd have to say that I'm content.
11. What did you say last?
"Hi, [insert coworker's name]"
12. Where is your phone?
on my desk, to my right, next to an empty coffee mug.
13. What was the last museum you went to?
National Gallery of Art...no wait, the Flag House and Star-Spangled Banner Museum, where the flag that inspired our national anthem was sewn. Yeah, that flag that flew over Fort McHenry during the Battle of Baltimore in the War of 1812. Fun fact: the house is smaller than the flag itself.
14. What color are your eyes?
this answer doesn't change. They are blue.
15. Who came over last?
to the co-op? We didn't have any visitors.
16. Last time you had your heart broken?
long enough to no longer have a need to comment on the event. I'm better because of it, so thank you to all the mistakes.
17. Who/what do you hate/dislike currently?
Kim Kardashian. She is the devil.
18. What are you listening to?
the general sounds of computers and office labor
19. If you could have one thing right now what would it be?
A real job, with insurance, tuition reimbursement, and paid time off.
Or a security clearance, whichever.
20. What is the best smell?
I can't decide between New Car, Gasoline, Bath and Body Works, or the Clean Man smell. By the way, the Clean Man smell is that delicious scent of your lover right out of the shower. It's perfection.
21. Who is always there when you need someone to talk to?
they know who they are
22. What were you doing at midnight last night?
passing the hell out...which sounds so lame now but it's the truth.
23. Are you left-handed?
still right-handed
24. What's for dinner tonight?
probably an overpriced latte
25. What is the last alcoholic beverage you had?
glass of Riesling while watching the Blue Angels be epic
26. When Is Your Birthday?
still 08.25.
27. Who was the last person to send you a text message?
Repub
29. Where was the last place you went shopping?
Victoria's Secret. Semi-annual sale: buying a $60 at 50% off.
I don't think my breasts have ever looked this good.
30. How do you feel about your hair right now?
it's clean, it's brushed, it's blonde
31. Do you have any expensive jewelry?
yup: old birthday and Christmas presents, class ring, etc.
32. AIM or MSN?
Skype, Facebook Chat, Twitter.
33. Where does most of your family live?
Texas
34. Are you an only child or do you have siblings?
One little sister, who is turning 18 in August. What the fuck?
35. Would you consider yourself to be spoiled?
Compared to a lot of people on the planet, absolutely.
36. What was the first thing you thought when you woke up?
Shit, it's 7 AM...how fast can I shower and put on makeup?
37. Do you drink beer?
this is a stupid question. Of course I do
38. Myspace or Facebook?
Facebook. Does anyone even use Myspace?
40. What is/was your favorite subject in school?
...I'm not sure how to respond to that, considering that for the rest of my life, I will be taking mostly English classes.
41. What type of boy/girl do you usually fall for?
If my past is anything to go by, an unmotivated jackass. However, I think things have finally taken a turn for the better...I like guys in grad school, especially for science.
42. Do you have any hidden talents?
they're not hidden
43. Have you ever been in a wedding?
Yes
44. Do you have any children?
Disgusting
45. Did you take a nap today?
no
46. Ever met someone famous?
Frank Beamer, Charles Steger, Dr. Torgersen, Bryan Bratt...I think that's it so far.
47. Do you want to be famous one day?
noteworthy is the term I'd like to use
48. Are you multitasking right now?
If pretending to work counts, then sure
49. Could you handle being in the military?
probably not
50. What is your average cell phone bill?
reasonable
51. Do you believe in Karma?
hahahahahaha oh yes
52. Ever been to Las Vegas?
nope
53. What are you doing today?
"worked," Starbucks date soon, then Gordon Ramsay-watching, then perhaps a chat with PhD, then pass the hell out.
54. Have you ever been gambling?
yup, every year for the Derby
56. Have you been to New York City?
yes
57. Ever been to Disneyland/world?
yes and I have no intention of returning
58. Do you have a favorite cartoon character?
I do
59. Last thing you cooked?
pasta
60. Stupidest thing you ever did with your cell phone?
anything involving alcohol, text messages, and old boyfriends qualifies as something incredibly stupid.
61. Last time you were sick?
earlier in the month, I got my annual summer sinus infection. This time, it struck during one of our first meetings as new interns, which fucking sucked.
62. Last person you kissed?
PhD
63. Random fact about you?
I have read the Fifty Shades of Grey trilogy and I do not want a mainstream film adaptation made from it. Look, it's basically porn, right? Therefore, James Deen should play Grey and Stoya should play Anastasia. And any thirteen-year-old Tumblr user who disagrees with me should not know who these people are and go play JV sports.
That might have been a rant.
64. Do you think anybody will repost this?
I highly doubt it.
Saturday, June 16, 2012
A Supposed Hipster Doing Hipser Things
This past semester, I was accused of being a hipster, which I took rather offensively. At first. As I sat in the Pentagon City Mall Apple Store, waiting oh-so-patiently for my Genius to assist me (my Macbook, which was purchased in 2008, needed a new battery and software upgrade), I started to reflect on all of the reasons that could categorize me as a hipster.
Now, hipsters generally wear attire purchased from Urban Outfitters and American Apparel and I'm going to be completely honest: there is no way in hell I can afford to shop there. My 38D cup bras need to be purchased at Kohls, Ross, Marshalls, and Victoria's Secret (the latter happens only during the semi-annual sale, which was going on today so yay me! I have a new bra that I simply could not do without). Hipsters are also, by definition, embraces counter culture, a term that arose from sociological thought during the 1960s, in which the youth of that era rejected the McCarthyism je nai sais quoi and gave today's Western culture certain gems like the sexual revolution, Malcom X, and the Stonewall riots. However, today's hipsters are mere blends of fashion, eccentric literature, and, as a former classmate can attest to, "never setting foot into a fucking Walmart."
Because, you know, it's too mainstream.
Without further ado, the reasons that one could argue my being a hipster:
~M
Now, hipsters generally wear attire purchased from Urban Outfitters and American Apparel and I'm going to be completely honest: there is no way in hell I can afford to shop there. My 38D cup bras need to be purchased at Kohls, Ross, Marshalls, and Victoria's Secret (the latter happens only during the semi-annual sale, which was going on today so yay me! I have a new bra that I simply could not do without). Hipsters are also, by definition, embraces counter culture, a term that arose from sociological thought during the 1960s, in which the youth of that era rejected the McCarthyism je nai sais quoi and gave today's Western culture certain gems like the sexual revolution, Malcom X, and the Stonewall riots. However, today's hipsters are mere blends of fashion, eccentric literature, and, as a former classmate can attest to, "never setting foot into a fucking Walmart."
Because, you know, it's too mainstream.
Without further ado, the reasons that one could argue my being a hipster:
- I use a Macbook laptop that was purchased in May 2008, in preparation for my freshman year. Yeah, that's the laptop that I took to Pentagon City Mall today. Perhaps, all those four years ago, I should have invested in a different computer that could run a Windows operating system but I like it a lot and plan on using it for at least three more years.
- My iPod is a first edition 30 gigabyte iPod Video that was purchased in August 2007. It still works, but barely. See, my parents collection of vinyl records and cassettes have stood the test of time, whereas this piece of shit is holding on for dear life. And of course there isn't nearly enough storage on it to hold all of my music, which may or may not be considered eccentric.
- I have an unshakable caffeine addiction. I still have a thing for Diet Dr. Pepper and drink it a lot. Now, with a Kuerig machine and a virtually unlimited supply of K cups (where the coffee is stored), I practically am on an IV drip of coffee. My teeth are going to be yellow soon if I don't get this under control.
- I just graduated with a BA in English. Specifically, with the creative writing option. I carry around a small notebook and write down pretty much anything of interest because that's what Jack Kerouac used to do. My diploma might as well read, "I majored in something of little use, unless being a pretentious twat is useful now." I guess, in a way, it does; the fact that I am now getting an MA is further cementing this fact.
- If I was ever caught eating at D2 at Virginia Tech, I was almost certainly eating the vegan food: cous cous, hummus and pita bread, and sweet potato fries. While the other deep-fried options were delicious in their own right, there was something magical about this food. It's incredibly delectable and boasts being good for you. I cannot argue with that logic.
- I, on occasion, will watch an indie film...and love it. Oh come on! Sometimes, even the best of us want to get on our Netflix Instant cue and watch something completely different.
- I have dabbled in playwriting, which has been considered by many to be the highest form of creative writing. And, as it turns out, I'm quite good at it.
- I fucking love The Cellar. There's this little bar in Blacksburg called The Cellar and it is truly a wonderful place. Two dollar Luck-of-the-Draw, Hammer Time, and live music are among the attractions to this haven for other hipsters.
- Drinking wine and microbrews is such a fantastic activity. And not that Barefoot shit, either. If I haven't had it but it has a similar flavor profile to something that I have tried and enjoyed, I'll give it a try. Always have to try new things and all.
- I still have never seen The Notebook. I consider this an accomplishment.
- I distress my own jeans. This whole fashion phenomenon of purposefully buying denim jeans that already have holes and frays in them is beyond me. It's so much more cost effective to buy a pair of $40 jeans and wear them for years, letting them get their own, special holes and frays.
- Cult movies are pretty badass. This requires zero explanation.
- Apparently, playing the French horn is rather obscure. Or so I've been told. I'll never really be able to grasp the fact that initially, many bandsmen and -women are converted from a different brass instrument to the horn, not following my path of starting to play the instrument at age 10.
- I have expressed a desire to shave my own head. That's pretty counter culture. It's important to note that this was expressed during a summer when I had rather long hair and I was more than irritated about a constant sweaty scalp. It wasn't ever intended to "make a statement;" I was just fucking hot.
- I no longer enjoy going to house parties, nor do I enjoy going to incredibly douchey bars. Yeah, I went to house parties before, but who doesn't in their freshman year? And I really cannot stand going to a bar where the music is so loud that you cannot hear your own thoughts.
- I enjoy reading weird, obscure books that you've probably never heard of. Unless you happen to be a student from another MA English program and have an even more eccentric literary taste than I do, I can guarantee that you wouldn't have heard some of the books on my bookshelf. However, if you are interested in something I've got and the feeling is mutual, I'd love to bookswap!
- I never purchased rain boots:
- I absolutely love shopping at Walmart; Whole Foods pisses me the hell off. When you're relatively low on funds and trying to feed and clothe yourself, you've got to go for the bargains. Sure, Whole Foods might be healthier, but that organic avocado is $4.99. Kiss my ass.
- I also have been known to read mainstream works of fiction and trashy romance novels, most recently the Fifty Shades of Grey trilogy. And I thoroughly enjoying getting lost in genre fiction.
- I cannot throw a frisbee. Don't bother trying to teach me. It's a skill that I have tried to grasp my entire life.
- I don't ride my bike everywhere. This is mostly because I cannot bike the distance between the co-op and the internship.
- The smell of marijuana is nauseating to me. This is not just a comment about the hipster lifestyle, OK? Many different people indulge in this substance, which is completely fine. I just think it smells horrendous.
- I don't scoff at school spirit. In fact, I embrace it thoroughly.
- I love being a tourist from time to time. Example: I am going to Baltimore to celebrate the Sailabration. Look it up.
- Despite my eccentric taste in music, I'll still shamelessly shake my ass to music that everyone knows about. Sometimes, it's fun to conform.
- I'm not perpetually rail thin, nor can I actually afford to eat scones on a daily basis.
- I watch football and act like a hooligan when I do it. I've noticed that hipster girls tend to be insanely thin, yet eat tons of pastries. I'm not thin by any stretch of the imagination (as PhD said, "You have the body of Christina Hendricks") but I try to watch my figure. I can't do that if I follow their suit and cram croissants into my gullet.
- I also watch actual TV, and enjoy it. Everyone watches HIMYM, Say Yes to the Dress, The Big Bang Theory, and Family Guy, and I happily join in.
- I keep my hair in a normal hairstyle. I get my roots touched up but other than that, it stays blonde, medium-to-long in length, and groomed.
- I'm trying to be a professional, technical writer in the corporate world. This cannot be accomplished if I gauge my ears and use my body to make statements against the governmental, corporate regime.
- I find the government to be something amusing at times, frustrating at others, yet I don't wish to completely overthrow it. Kind of like John Stewart, except that I can never even dream of being as brilliant as he is.
- I read women's magazines without regret. I dare you to take Cosmopolitan away from me. Also, one of my tweets was in the June issue!
- I don't own a single plaid garment and the only flannel I own is in bedsheet form. I've never understood the grunge movement, nor why anyone would want to bring it back to fashion. My plaid, flannel sheets, though, make for the best sleeps that I've ever had.
- I don't own a single plant. What is it with hipsters and plants? It's a miracle that I've kept Raphael, my red beta fish, alive. I'm more of a plant murderer. I just forget to water them everyday.
~M
Thursday, June 14, 2012
Transition to the Yuppie Lifestyle
Well, the inevitable happened.
Somehow or other, I actually graduated from college with an undergraduate degree. Oh yeah, it's hanging up on my parents' wall in a brand-new diploma frame. Not only that, but I also got a graduate school acceptance letter and I have decided to go after my master's degree. I kind of slaved through my last year in order to get into graduate school and now that I'm in, I really don't give a damn about what happened in the last four years. Most of it was inconsequential and, especially in those last few weeks, I was ready to get the hell out of there. Don't get me wrong: I had a blast during my undergrad but, after awhile, it got tedious.
Normally, I'd use this summer to escape reality and enjoy life for a bit before I actually head back into the schooling grind. However, I was also accepted to intern in the DC area for the summer season so instead of sipping a Mai Tai by a pool, I now sit inside an office sipping coffee. Actually, it's more like I chug coffee. Seriously, I now drink a ridiculous amount of coffee and it's gotten unreasonable.
I'm not sure how I feel about being rapidly transplanted to this yuppie lifestyle. For those who don't know, the term "yuppie" is short for "young urban professional" and was coined in the early 1980's. Basically, anyone in a generic office job sitting in front of computer, scheduling meetings, and discussing something ambiguous called, "Accounts Receivable." I have halfway joined their ranks, seeing as I'm just an intern and not special enough to be considered "full-time."
I have been equipped with a new computer that's supposed to be just for work but here's what's so funny about me and this internship: I'm so used to scrambling to get tasks done that I finish them quickly and, more often than not, flawlessly (I try not to brag but oh well). My supervisor has to keep coming up with new things for me to do, or else I end up staying on Twitter and casually reaching for yet another swig of coffee. That, or applying for more jobs, which is a completely different headache but perhaps part of the whole college alumni role.
I have also been equipped with a new wardrobe. Normally, I'm supposed to loathe the yuppie uniform of slacks, sweaters, and suits. I have to confess that I adore it. I love waking up in the morning and slipping on the perfect pair of panty hose (no runs, perfect color for my skin) and then donning on either a skirt or a pair of slacks and a flattering yet sophisticated top. I am loving the fact that I get to wear high heels all the time. Honestly, I just love feeling more put together and sexy in the morning than in the past, where my strategy of dressing would be to simply shower, throw on jeans and a tee shirt, and roll out.
Commuting is a phenomenon that is new to me and I discovered, very quickly, that I am really going to have to find a job close to a subway station or a bus stop because I really hate driving. I'll take a suspicious groping in a Metro if I don't have to sit in traffic ever again. Yes, I'm very serious about this.
So yeah, that's kind of my life right now. Nothing really terribly interesting...yet.
~M
Somehow or other, I actually graduated from college with an undergraduate degree. Oh yeah, it's hanging up on my parents' wall in a brand-new diploma frame. Not only that, but I also got a graduate school acceptance letter and I have decided to go after my master's degree. I kind of slaved through my last year in order to get into graduate school and now that I'm in, I really don't give a damn about what happened in the last four years. Most of it was inconsequential and, especially in those last few weeks, I was ready to get the hell out of there. Don't get me wrong: I had a blast during my undergrad but, after awhile, it got tedious.
Normally, I'd use this summer to escape reality and enjoy life for a bit before I actually head back into the schooling grind. However, I was also accepted to intern in the DC area for the summer season so instead of sipping a Mai Tai by a pool, I now sit inside an office sipping coffee. Actually, it's more like I chug coffee. Seriously, I now drink a ridiculous amount of coffee and it's gotten unreasonable.
I'm not sure how I feel about being rapidly transplanted to this yuppie lifestyle. For those who don't know, the term "yuppie" is short for "young urban professional" and was coined in the early 1980's. Basically, anyone in a generic office job sitting in front of computer, scheduling meetings, and discussing something ambiguous called, "Accounts Receivable." I have halfway joined their ranks, seeing as I'm just an intern and not special enough to be considered "full-time."
I have been equipped with a new computer that's supposed to be just for work but here's what's so funny about me and this internship: I'm so used to scrambling to get tasks done that I finish them quickly and, more often than not, flawlessly (I try not to brag but oh well). My supervisor has to keep coming up with new things for me to do, or else I end up staying on Twitter and casually reaching for yet another swig of coffee. That, or applying for more jobs, which is a completely different headache but perhaps part of the whole college alumni role.
I have also been equipped with a new wardrobe. Normally, I'm supposed to loathe the yuppie uniform of slacks, sweaters, and suits. I have to confess that I adore it. I love waking up in the morning and slipping on the perfect pair of panty hose (no runs, perfect color for my skin) and then donning on either a skirt or a pair of slacks and a flattering yet sophisticated top. I am loving the fact that I get to wear high heels all the time. Honestly, I just love feeling more put together and sexy in the morning than in the past, where my strategy of dressing would be to simply shower, throw on jeans and a tee shirt, and roll out.
Commuting is a phenomenon that is new to me and I discovered, very quickly, that I am really going to have to find a job close to a subway station or a bus stop because I really hate driving. I'll take a suspicious groping in a Metro if I don't have to sit in traffic ever again. Yes, I'm very serious about this.
So yeah, that's kind of my life right now. Nothing really terribly interesting...yet.
~M
Thursday, March 8, 2012
Dust and Spiderwebs
Well, it's spring break. Apparently, every professor doesn't give a shit about that and loads us all up with projects but that's beside the point. When I hear the word "break," I think of sleeping in until noon, reading, and catching up on all the work that I have yet to accomplish. My parental units, however, hear it and scream, "THE SLAVE IS COMING HOME!!!!!!!" Not really, but I just completed the arduous task of cleaning out my walk-in closet. What was once a shrine a to a fabulous shoe and book collection is now going to play host to my mother's sewing shit. No, I'm none too pleased about it.
However, as I was digging around amongst the filth of age and the dust of neglect, I came across a red box. A shiny red box. That had hearts all over it. Oh shit, I immediately thought and tried to hide it from my mother.
Mother: "What's that?"
Me: "It's nothing."
Mother: "'To Michelle, Love Owen.' Oh my God, how old is that?"
Me: "It was from Valentine's Day, 2007. So five years old. Holy hell..."
I started rifling through it feverishly. The contents of the red box, which once held a small box of chocolates and Bath and Body Works's Exotic Coconut Body Spray and Lotion (the gentleman in question arrived on my doorstep late Valentine's Day evening with a bouquet of a dozen pink roses and this gift. I was wearing black sweatpants, a pink t-shirt, and wet hair, for I had just come home from swim practice), were now as follows: the card received that night (a kitten on the front with the text, "Wild...you are so fun to be with" and on the inside sang "Wild Thing" by Chip Taylor with the text "I can't keep my paws to myself. Happy Valentine's Day." He had written, in very small, engineer-esque scrawl, "I didn't think it was too suggestive. <3 Owen (Wild...sigh)"), movie ticket stubs of most of the movies we went to on dates (he was the projectionist at the movie theater down the road from me and got two tickets for free every weekend), his senior portrait, two of our prom pictures, and the Reasons He Loved Me, aka his 17th birthday present to me.
This is almost too gross to write. Yes, at one time, the romance and passion of The Princess Bride could move me to tears and this sort of sentimentality seemed beautiful to me. Now, I have to wonder what possessed me to keep this garbage. Curiosity compelled me to look at those reasons, though. Here they are:
[Note: the bold is the original text. What's not bolded is my sarcasm.]
This is what you asked for. Hope you enjoy. To be fair, this is what I said I wanted. I didn't demand it; in fact, I didn't actually think he'd go for it. We were retarded and decided to keep an LDR going while he started his freshman year at VT and I finished up my senior year of high school. I didn't want him to break the bank at all, and how many eighteen year old males are going to be this sentimental?
Owen
Well...back in the box and back in the closet with this crap.
~M
However, as I was digging around amongst the filth of age and the dust of neglect, I came across a red box. A shiny red box. That had hearts all over it. Oh shit, I immediately thought and tried to hide it from my mother.
Mother: "What's that?"
Me: "It's nothing."
Mother: "'To Michelle, Love Owen.' Oh my God, how old is that?"
Me: "It was from Valentine's Day, 2007. So five years old. Holy hell..."
I started rifling through it feverishly. The contents of the red box, which once held a small box of chocolates and Bath and Body Works's Exotic Coconut Body Spray and Lotion (the gentleman in question arrived on my doorstep late Valentine's Day evening with a bouquet of a dozen pink roses and this gift. I was wearing black sweatpants, a pink t-shirt, and wet hair, for I had just come home from swim practice), were now as follows: the card received that night (a kitten on the front with the text, "Wild...you are so fun to be with" and on the inside sang "Wild Thing" by Chip Taylor with the text "I can't keep my paws to myself. Happy Valentine's Day." He had written, in very small, engineer-esque scrawl, "I didn't think it was too suggestive. <3 Owen (Wild...sigh)"), movie ticket stubs of most of the movies we went to on dates (he was the projectionist at the movie theater down the road from me and got two tickets for free every weekend), his senior portrait, two of our prom pictures, and the Reasons He Loved Me, aka his 17th birthday present to me.
This is almost too gross to write. Yes, at one time, the romance and passion of The Princess Bride could move me to tears and this sort of sentimentality seemed beautiful to me. Now, I have to wonder what possessed me to keep this garbage. Curiosity compelled me to look at those reasons, though. Here they are:
[Note: the bold is the original text. What's not bolded is my sarcasm.]
This is what you asked for. Hope you enjoy. To be fair, this is what I said I wanted. I didn't demand it; in fact, I didn't actually think he'd go for it. We were retarded and decided to keep an LDR going while he started his freshman year at VT and I finished up my senior year of high school. I didn't want him to break the bank at all, and how many eighteen year old males are going to be this sentimental?
- A girl is interested in me? Why do guys do this? Seriously, he was pretty handsome, like Viggo Mortensen. But, I was his second girlfriend and the first girl he ever French-kissed. So perhaps his self-esteem needed a bit of a boost. Who knows?
- And she's hot? Well, I'm certainly not going to argue.
- She's not opposed to watching non-chick flicks. Still true.
- She likes the Beatles. Who the fuck doesn't like the Beatles?
- She'll go to a metal show with me. Oh God...yeah ok so he decided to take me to see Mastodon live at the 930 Club. It was...an eye-opening experience.
- The thing is, she doesn't like metal. It's grown on me very very slowly.
- Oh yeah, she's not needy or whiny or clingy or a bitch. Doesn't every girl want to hear that?
- She doesn't hate (all) my friends =) Actually, his best friend from high school, WestPointer, and I still chat.
- She doesn't demand I spend money on her. I still am uncomfortable with men spending money on me.
- She gives my stupid habits a chance. Um...trying to remember what his stupid habits were...and I don't think he would have listed "going to church all the time" as a "stupid habit."
- She's not a control freak. Not about boys and their comings and goings, no. Just about the things I need to take care of and shit like that. I really and truly couldn't care less about the person who calls me their SF. They just have to understand that at any important function that requires me to have an escort, they are said escort.
- She's open to new ideas (Planet Terror, Blind Guardian. Those are just a few.). Well, I watched the movie and I have the vast majority of the latter's discography. So, whatever, I'll take it.
- She sat down and watched EVIL DEAD! I did, and didn't say a damn thing. He had this Army of Darkness shirt that irritated the hell out of me because the movie is straight-up dogshit. Men everywhere worship Bruce Campbell; it's probably because of that outrageous chin.
- She's very atypical. I guess I still am?
- When I had to go, she let me go. This could be taken two ways: either the sweet way or the gross way. The gross way is letting a guy drop a deuce in my place of dwelling, a cardinal sin to break in my book. The sweet way is what he intended: he had to leave for college and I understood and said "Goodbye."
Owen
Well...back in the box and back in the closet with this crap.
~M
Tuesday, February 21, 2012
Save My Ladyparts
February is such a bullshit month. Seriously, it's the worst month of the year. Here is the story of how this February kicked off:
[If you have a low tolerance for medical jargon or surgical procedures, just forget about it.]
February 1st, 2012 - Lying in bed naked watching Jackass 3 on Netflix at 11 AM, minding my own business. Had a small handful of white cheddar popcorn for breakfast (I'm poor, I'm in college, bite me). Without warning, I experienced an extreme stabbing pain in my right lower abdomen. First thought: Perhaps I'm ovulating and experiencing mittelschmertz (German for "middle pain," the slight pain felt during ovulation). Second thought: This pain isn't going away. In fact, it's gotten way worse rapidly. Oh Christ, not a fan. This was the worst pain I'd ever experienced in my entire life, and I've been thrown from a horse into a fence and totaled a car. I quickly Google "appendicitis" and skim the symptoms. Some of them match the pain I am experiencing. I start screaming in my apartment and my roommate, FilmChick, knocks on my door. "M, are you OK?"
"NO I AM NOT OK I NEED TO GO TO THE FUCKING HOSPITAL RIGHT NOW OWOWOWOWOWOOWOWOWOW!!!!!!!!!!"
"OK, I can take you. Let me get my coat and I'll wait for you in the common area."
I pry myself from bed, barely able to stand up straight. I honestly have no idea how I managed to put on a bra but I know I just grabbed whatever clothes I could (as always, no sweatpants. Even in agony, I have dignity) and my shirt was dirty. Fuck it, M. Just walk outside and get your ass to the hospital. Walking hunched over, I climb into her truck and FilmChick graciously drives me to the ER.
We walk in, or rather she walks in and I waddle in hunched over clutching my belly, and I quickly sit down, while FilmChick goes to the window and grabs a clipboard. She writes my dictated medical history, which is seriously uneventful. Then, we wait...and wait...and wait. Keep in mind that because I am now around old people, I have stopped screaming and have resorted to pathetic puppy moaning and pleadingly looking to the receptionist. After an hour, FilmChick returns to the window: "Please, she's seriously in pain. She thinks it might be appendicitis." Fifteen minutes pass by and they call me. Sweet relief!
HelloKittyScrubs: "Miss M, we're going to check your vitals now."
Me: "You're joking, right?"
HKS: "Nope. Put on the cuff."
I couldn't believe it. I tell her all of my symptoms, beg for relief, and even tell her that I need to be seen immediately. "Look, I don't go to the doctor at all, nor do I have any chronic illnesses. When I'm in pain, I'm not fucking around. Please just give me something to distract me from this stabbing pain."
HKS: "I understand, Miss, but we don't have anymore beds back there. We are going to try and move someone quickly for you."
She then gives me a wheelchair, makes me move into it, then wheels me back out. FilmChick looks at her incredulously: "What the hell?"
Me: "They don't have any beds for me. I have to wait more. You can go back home, if you need to."
FilmChick: "Are you absolutely sure?"
I insisted and so she left. I texted a few people where I was, including Flyboy, and of course they were all busy. I sat alone in the waiting room for another half hour when I was finally wheeled into a room. MaleNurse comes in and begins to deliver more crap news: "We are going to need blood and urine samples."
Me: "Oh, you've got to be kidding me. I feel like I've been stabbed and you have to actually stab me with my least favorite thing on the planet?"
MaleNurse: "Well, I can give you an unsterilized needle."
Me: "Well-played. If I'm going to piss, I need some water."
He proceeds to draw my blood (I'm lying down in my uncomfortable hospital bed at this point, preventing my normal reaction of passing out), then leaves with the vials. "The cup is on the table. Go when you can. After that, strip down and put on the hospital gown." After fifteen minutes, I struggle to pry myself from the bed and waddle over to the little bathroom and give the lab people a sample.
By this time, a few friends were able to get to the hospital after I had told them what was up. I was finally wearing a super sexy powder blue flimsy thing with maroon moons and stars plastered all over it. They came to visit me but only after I heard the best news: "You're going to have a CAT scan so drink this barium."
I've heard that barium tastes like dogshit and was not excited. MaleNurse: "Oh no, it's OK. We mix it with Sprite and cranberry juice."
Me: (takes a sip) "Vodka-cran! Decent!"
The CAT scan was boring but the results were not. MaleNurse: "Well, you don't have appendicitis. However, it appears you've got a large cyst on your ovary. We've got the OB/GYN on call and she is scheduling you for an ultrasound."
Me: "Can I please have some morphine?"
MaleNurse: "Oh yes."
Thank Christ.
Morphine is a hell of a drug and as soon as it was pumped into my veins, the stabbing subsided to a low, dull ache. I started mumbling silly things about stupid shit, then I get wheeled into the ultrasound room. The technician asks me if I have any questions about transvaginal ultrasounds.
Me: "Yeah. Can you microwave that lube shit? I don't need it ice cold."
She sticks the wand in and turns on the machine. Immediately on the screen, there is a massive black object. Her eyes widen a bit.
Me: "Fuck, that's big."
It ended up being about ten centimeters in length. That's the size of a Blackberry. At about 9 PM, my mother shows up looking harried. Dr. Abrahms comes in my new room and tells me that I still can't eat anything and that I've been scheduled for emergency laprascopy the next morning. "Save my ladyparts," was my only reply to her.
They were able to save my ovary, thank God.
~M
[If you have a low tolerance for medical jargon or surgical procedures, just forget about it.]
February 1st, 2012 - Lying in bed naked watching Jackass 3 on Netflix at 11 AM, minding my own business. Had a small handful of white cheddar popcorn for breakfast (I'm poor, I'm in college, bite me). Without warning, I experienced an extreme stabbing pain in my right lower abdomen. First thought: Perhaps I'm ovulating and experiencing mittelschmertz (German for "middle pain," the slight pain felt during ovulation). Second thought: This pain isn't going away. In fact, it's gotten way worse rapidly. Oh Christ, not a fan. This was the worst pain I'd ever experienced in my entire life, and I've been thrown from a horse into a fence and totaled a car. I quickly Google "appendicitis" and skim the symptoms. Some of them match the pain I am experiencing. I start screaming in my apartment and my roommate, FilmChick, knocks on my door. "M, are you OK?"
"NO I AM NOT OK I NEED TO GO TO THE FUCKING HOSPITAL RIGHT NOW OWOWOWOWOWOOWOWOWOW!!!!!!!!!!"
"OK, I can take you. Let me get my coat and I'll wait for you in the common area."
I pry myself from bed, barely able to stand up straight. I honestly have no idea how I managed to put on a bra but I know I just grabbed whatever clothes I could (as always, no sweatpants. Even in agony, I have dignity) and my shirt was dirty. Fuck it, M. Just walk outside and get your ass to the hospital. Walking hunched over, I climb into her truck and FilmChick graciously drives me to the ER.
We walk in, or rather she walks in and I waddle in hunched over clutching my belly, and I quickly sit down, while FilmChick goes to the window and grabs a clipboard. She writes my dictated medical history, which is seriously uneventful. Then, we wait...and wait...and wait. Keep in mind that because I am now around old people, I have stopped screaming and have resorted to pathetic puppy moaning and pleadingly looking to the receptionist. After an hour, FilmChick returns to the window: "Please, she's seriously in pain. She thinks it might be appendicitis." Fifteen minutes pass by and they call me. Sweet relief!
HelloKittyScrubs: "Miss M, we're going to check your vitals now."
Me: "You're joking, right?"
HKS: "Nope. Put on the cuff."
I couldn't believe it. I tell her all of my symptoms, beg for relief, and even tell her that I need to be seen immediately. "Look, I don't go to the doctor at all, nor do I have any chronic illnesses. When I'm in pain, I'm not fucking around. Please just give me something to distract me from this stabbing pain."
HKS: "I understand, Miss, but we don't have anymore beds back there. We are going to try and move someone quickly for you."
She then gives me a wheelchair, makes me move into it, then wheels me back out. FilmChick looks at her incredulously: "What the hell?"
Me: "They don't have any beds for me. I have to wait more. You can go back home, if you need to."
FilmChick: "Are you absolutely sure?"
I insisted and so she left. I texted a few people where I was, including Flyboy, and of course they were all busy. I sat alone in the waiting room for another half hour when I was finally wheeled into a room. MaleNurse comes in and begins to deliver more crap news: "We are going to need blood and urine samples."
Me: "Oh, you've got to be kidding me. I feel like I've been stabbed and you have to actually stab me with my least favorite thing on the planet?"
MaleNurse: "Well, I can give you an unsterilized needle."
Me: "Well-played. If I'm going to piss, I need some water."
He proceeds to draw my blood (I'm lying down in my uncomfortable hospital bed at this point, preventing my normal reaction of passing out), then leaves with the vials. "The cup is on the table. Go when you can. After that, strip down and put on the hospital gown." After fifteen minutes, I struggle to pry myself from the bed and waddle over to the little bathroom and give the lab people a sample.
By this time, a few friends were able to get to the hospital after I had told them what was up. I was finally wearing a super sexy powder blue flimsy thing with maroon moons and stars plastered all over it. They came to visit me but only after I heard the best news: "You're going to have a CAT scan so drink this barium."
I've heard that barium tastes like dogshit and was not excited. MaleNurse: "Oh no, it's OK. We mix it with Sprite and cranberry juice."
Me: (takes a sip) "Vodka-cran! Decent!"
The CAT scan was boring but the results were not. MaleNurse: "Well, you don't have appendicitis. However, it appears you've got a large cyst on your ovary. We've got the OB/GYN on call and she is scheduling you for an ultrasound."
Me: "Can I please have some morphine?"
MaleNurse: "Oh yes."
Thank Christ.
Morphine is a hell of a drug and as soon as it was pumped into my veins, the stabbing subsided to a low, dull ache. I started mumbling silly things about stupid shit, then I get wheeled into the ultrasound room. The technician asks me if I have any questions about transvaginal ultrasounds.
Me: "Yeah. Can you microwave that lube shit? I don't need it ice cold."
She sticks the wand in and turns on the machine. Immediately on the screen, there is a massive black object. Her eyes widen a bit.
Me: "Fuck, that's big."
It ended up being about ten centimeters in length. That's the size of a Blackberry. At about 9 PM, my mother shows up looking harried. Dr. Abrahms comes in my new room and tells me that I still can't eat anything and that I've been scheduled for emergency laprascopy the next morning. "Save my ladyparts," was my only reply to her.
They were able to save my ovary, thank God.
~M
Wednesday, January 11, 2012
TV Shows I'm Really Excited About
OK, so taking a break from my brain dissection, and mourning the end of the 2011-2012 college football season, I have decided to write about the TV shows I am stoked to return, from either hiatus status or their Christmas breaks.
XOXO
~M
- Mad Men. Yes, this show has to be number one. It's got everything to make a delectable viewing pleasure: men in suits, drinking, smoking, infidelity, strong seductive women, and the glamour of 1960s Manhattan. Jon Hamm's character, Don Draper, will hopefully remain the commanding presence he is and also manage to get his ex-wife, Betty, in line. I'm not sure how I feel about him marrying Megan, his secretary, but we'll have to see if it doesn't end in flames. My money is on Draper sipping his bourbon, exuding virility, and wrapping more women around his finger. And really, who'd say no to him?
- Spartacus: Vengence. Liam McIntyre has some very big, very sexy shoes to fill as he takes up the role of Spartacus. Andy Whitfield, God rest his soul, left us with a most delicious character and the audience was spoiled on his performance. I know I'm looking forward to more more muscular, bloody violence, political intrigue, and the uber complex relationship of Ilithia and Lucretia. And of course the more screentime a shirtless Spartacus has, the better.
- Californication. Oh, Hank Moody, you delightfully damaged artist. After viewing the first episode of the new season, I'm left a tad confused but intrigued. Hank is now back in California after spending a year in New York and it looks like he's going to be staying there because his psycho ex, a woman named Carrie, just burned his apartment. Apparently, it wasn't OK with her to "give up the butt" and have Hank want to "keep things casual." My reply is that it's called the marriage hole for a reason but that's neither here nor there. Tensions remain high between Hank and Karen. It also looks like Becca has herself a new boyfriend, a young lad named Tyler played by the adorable Scott Michael Foster (Cappie from Greek). Charlie Runkle just crossed the threshold of fucking 100 women, so congratulations are in order, I guess. I'm shocked that his dick hasn't fallen off but still good for him. I can't wait to watch the impending drama unfold.
- How I Met Your Mother. Ted needs to get himself a love interest pronto. It doesn't have to be the mother, although I'm fairly certain we'll find out who she is at the end of this season. Still, his story has become rather stagnant ever since the tension between Robin and Barney continues to crescendo. Initially, I was deeply upset that she and Barney aren't going to end up together but in all honesty they really are too damaged. Plus, Victoria did point out that Robin being in the group causes Ted to not find a woman because he's supposedly still holding on to her. I'm not sure if I believe that's the truth but it's an interesting observation. I do know that Barney being single makes for a better show because I'm going to be honest: him with Nora was just so boring. Also, I really hope Barney and Ted's bar, Puzzles, really kicks off. Why the hell is it called Puzzles?
- The Big Bang Theory. Leonard's single now, which is great because who actually liked Pria? I really want Penny to come back into focus, though. She was a vital force in the development of Leonard and now she's kind of fallen by the wayside. Perhaps something will change during Howard's and Bernadette's nuptials. And Raj is veering very close to the land of hopeless. They've signed on for two more seasons but I don't think I can wait that long for his character to pick up a narrative arc. He had a small one when Leonard and Pria were together but ever since she cheated on Leonard in India, Raj is no longer an active character. And Sheldon still remains my favorite character and he can continue being a smartass all he wants.
- Archer. Love me some obnoxious Sterling Archer. I anticipate many more terrible comebacks from him. Carol/Cheryl needs to go back to being crazy as fuck and being choked and Pam is just amazing. And of course Lana Kane has to be animated TV's sexiest character. I'm fairly certain every guy I know has entertained a foul thought or two about her. I think I'm most looking forward to Mallory being her grotesquely old, awkward self because that's just classic her.
XOXO
~M
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