Your skeletal structure defies millions of years of evolution and in any other time you would die in childbirth.
How did those genes survive? Why?
Was it so you could exist to be photographed in silk and Anna Wintour-approved feathers? To smile from your glossy page with silent superiority?
I could live on air and tears, but the fact would remain that even stripped of fat and muscle, the bones of my desiccated corpse would far exceed your own in circumference, and I would die hating you.
Monday, August 27, 2007
Saturday, August 25, 2007
I don't have enough hands
I'm about to go work out and I'm so sad. Afterwards, I will have to shower, and my hair will no longer be perfectly blow-dried.
I have purchased innumerable variations on the round brush, but have finally concluded that it is not the tools, it is I.
BUT.
I can describe my lack of coordination with perfect grammar, so I win.
I have purchased innumerable variations on the round brush, but have finally concluded that it is not the tools, it is I.
BUT.
I can describe my lack of coordination with perfect grammar, so I win.
Wednesday, August 22, 2007
Blah blah blah Spamalot reference
In response to recent inquiries: No, I am not dead yet. Unfortunately.
There will be no discussion of organic chemistry, except to note that my previous metaphor was slightly off. It's really more like sticking your eye with a rusty syringe, draining the intraocular fluid, and replacing it with pickle juice. I could get into the subtleties of WHY a certain metaphor is superior but that would be talking about it.
So instead we're going to do an installment of Things I Would Really Like to Say, But Have Not, Because It Costs Fifty Thousand Dollars A Year to Go To College
1. If you cut that piece of shortbread in half, I will shove it up your nostril. We both know it's twenty calories a serving. EAT. IT.
2. Smoking is generally, A Bad Thing. But if the smoker in question is 85, she's already beaten the odds. STOP. BITCHING.
3. It is scientifically impossible for you to die as a result of missing a telephone call from your boyfriend. Especially if it's the fifth call THIS HOUR.
4. I swear TO GOD the next time you correct my grammar I will BLUDGEON YOU WITH MY COPY OF STRUNK AND WHITE. I KNOW that it's "It wasn't I." I KNOW. It's the predicate nominative because of the implied "to be." May I introduce you to the vernacular?
5. Yes, J.K. Rowling ripped off Tolkein. I realize that there is no such thing as an archetype. She's obviously a terrible HACK writer and of COURSE you would be EMBARRASSED to be associated with such a franchise. Especially the famous, successful part.
6. If you use the term "huge" to describe a sandwich because it has more than one piece of bread, I will force feed you a can of Crisco.
7. Your book? SUCKS.
8. No, I never EVER passed out in the library. This is something I am making up to get attention. I'm so glad you were able to see through such a transparent story.
9. Could we stop discussing people who NO LONGER WORK FOR THE DARIEN SCHOOL SYSTEM? THANK YOU.
10. The phrase "spending calories" makes me want to vomit up my lungs. There is no "calorie budget" and you do not determine if butter is "worth the marginal cost." This is not economics. It'S FOOD.
11. You know what would be nice? If I could mention a person in conversation WITHOUT prompting a little tangent about said person's weight, hair, makeup, and/or clothing. The next time you use the term "round" about A.) a person, and B.) a person who weighs about 135, I will defenestrate myself.
*exhales*
But you know what? My life no longer involves organic chemistry.
Life is good.
There will be no discussion of organic chemistry, except to note that my previous metaphor was slightly off. It's really more like sticking your eye with a rusty syringe, draining the intraocular fluid, and replacing it with pickle juice. I could get into the subtleties of WHY a certain metaphor is superior but that would be talking about it.
So instead we're going to do an installment of Things I Would Really Like to Say, But Have Not, Because It Costs Fifty Thousand Dollars A Year to Go To College
1. If you cut that piece of shortbread in half, I will shove it up your nostril. We both know it's twenty calories a serving. EAT. IT.
2. Smoking is generally, A Bad Thing. But if the smoker in question is 85, she's already beaten the odds. STOP. BITCHING.
3. It is scientifically impossible for you to die as a result of missing a telephone call from your boyfriend. Especially if it's the fifth call THIS HOUR.
4. I swear TO GOD the next time you correct my grammar I will BLUDGEON YOU WITH MY COPY OF STRUNK AND WHITE. I KNOW that it's "It wasn't I." I KNOW. It's the predicate nominative because of the implied "to be." May I introduce you to the vernacular?
5. Yes, J.K. Rowling ripped off Tolkein. I realize that there is no such thing as an archetype. She's obviously a terrible HACK writer and of COURSE you would be EMBARRASSED to be associated with such a franchise. Especially the famous, successful part.
6. If you use the term "huge" to describe a sandwich because it has more than one piece of bread, I will force feed you a can of Crisco.
7. Your book? SUCKS.
8. No, I never EVER passed out in the library. This is something I am making up to get attention. I'm so glad you were able to see through such a transparent story.
9. Could we stop discussing people who NO LONGER WORK FOR THE DARIEN SCHOOL SYSTEM? THANK YOU.
10. The phrase "spending calories" makes me want to vomit up my lungs. There is no "calorie budget" and you do not determine if butter is "worth the marginal cost." This is not economics. It'S FOOD.
11. You know what would be nice? If I could mention a person in conversation WITHOUT prompting a little tangent about said person's weight, hair, makeup, and/or clothing. The next time you use the term "round" about A.) a person, and B.) a person who weighs about 135, I will defenestrate myself.
*exhales*
But you know what? My life no longer involves organic chemistry.
Life is good.
Saturday, July 28, 2007
I now fear sunlight
If you see me post, please yell at me, for I should be studying. Not that it will help.
I shall emerge from my cave on August 16th.
I shall emerge from my cave on August 16th.
Thursday, July 19, 2007
Translated for your horror and amusement.
So,this is what they say.
And this is what they mean:
Executive Order, as delicately rephrased by someone who may or may not have consumed JUST A TAD of caffeine:
By the authority granted to me as a male member of a long-time influential family in American politics and the refreshing sheep-like loyalty of the average middle-American Republican voter:
I, George Bush, President of the United States of America Jesusland, find that since I feel like creating a policy that violates several well respected amendments of the Constitution, I will whip out the “OH NOES TURRERISTS!” card, because that seems to work well with you people.
Hmmm…which version should I use? How about this: We are shocked and dismayed that any Americans might take action threatening our efforts to bring PEACE AND STABILITY AND RECONSTRUCTION GOODNESS to Iraq. Why are you laughing? No, the U.S. did not start this war, thus causing all the problems in the first place. It was terrorists, I tell you, terrorists! Why do you hate America?
Anyway, we haven’t raped the Constitution enough, so we’re expanding on our previous attempts.
Section 1. Except for the loopholes that we already slipped in to cover our Haliburton buddies’ collective asses:
We’re in ur legalese, seizin ur propertiez!
Yup! I’M TAKING YOUR STUFF, SUCKAS!!
I know, I know, I can’t just go right out and take it, I have to cover my ass and have some kind of justifiable reason, so…hmm. Damn, I used lots of my good material in the Patriot Act…
I’ve got it! If Bob, Hank, and Condi say so! Sweet. Especially because they’re pretty good about doing what I tell them to, so essentially if I say so. This is fucking brilliant.
Okay, better throw in some legalese about the Iraq stuff…blah blah blah interfering-with-reconstruction-efforts-cakes. Whatev.
Doesn’t really matter what I say here? Know why?
WHO’S CHECKING?
Not a judge! Not a jury! Not anybody interested in issuing a warrant!
No judicial involvement of ANY KIND! The Cabinet members have the ABSOLUTE FINAL SAY!
Dude, I should have done this years ago.
What? Oh, the Constitution. Amendments Four and Five? Can you read them to me? Yeah, I used my copy as toilet paper when we ran out a while back. My bad.
4th: “The right of the people to be secure in their persons, houses, papers, and effects, against unreasonable searches and seizures, shall not be violated, and no Warrants shall issue, but upon probable cause, supported by Oath or affirmation, and particularly describing the place to be searched, and the persons or things to be seized.”
5th “No person shall be deprived of… life, liberty, or property, without due process of law.”
Well, that’s interesting, I suppose. Shame I don’t care.
Sec. 2. Anyway. No violating the rules we make up. Not allowed. Yes, that’s another rule I just made up. What, a government where one branch seizes absolute authority to make all the laws is inherently unjust and prone to corruption because that one branch can never be properly investigated? You don’t say.
Sec. 3. For the purposes of this order: the terms “person,” “entity,” and “United States person” mean whatever the hell I want them to.
Sec. 4. Thought you saw a loophole? OH SNAP, NO! Sorry.
Sec. 5. Oh, also, we don’t have to tell you when we do it. Zing!
Sec. 6. Hmmm…have I wantonly expanded the government’s power enough? Of course not! Basically, if we have to do it to carry out this order, it’s allowed. Abuse of power? What? I CAN’T HEAR YOU.
Sec. 7. *Legalese to induce brain aneurysm in case anybody read this far*
Sec. 8. Oho! You think you can use this against ME? NUH UH! I win, you lose. Hee.
Ghostwritten by me, Cheney. What, you think Shrub writes his own stuff? You guys are so cute. He’s off playing with his Xbox. Oh, by the way: nobody tell him that Condi used a cheat code to put him in God-mode in Halo. He thinks he’s winning it all by himself and it will take HOURS to shut him up if he finds out. Later, bitches. You’re ALL my bitches. BWAHAHAAHAHAHAHA!
Anyone know where I can get one of those masks from V for Vendetta?
And this is what they mean:
Executive Order, as delicately rephrased by someone who may or may not have consumed JUST A TAD of caffeine:
By the authority granted to me as a male member of a long-time influential family in American politics and the refreshing sheep-like loyalty of the average middle-American Republican voter:
I, George Bush, President of the United States of America Jesusland, find that since I feel like creating a policy that violates several well respected amendments of the Constitution, I will whip out the “OH NOES TURRERISTS!” card, because that seems to work well with you people.
Hmmm…which version should I use? How about this: We are shocked and dismayed that any Americans might take action threatening our efforts to bring PEACE AND STABILITY AND RECONSTRUCTION GOODNESS to Iraq. Why are you laughing? No, the U.S. did not start this war, thus causing all the problems in the first place. It was terrorists, I tell you, terrorists! Why do you hate America?
Anyway, we haven’t raped the Constitution enough, so we’re expanding on our previous attempts.
Section 1. Except for the loopholes that we already slipped in to cover our Haliburton buddies’ collective asses:
We’re in ur legalese, seizin ur propertiez!
Yup! I’M TAKING YOUR STUFF, SUCKAS!!
I know, I know, I can’t just go right out and take it, I have to cover my ass and have some kind of justifiable reason, so…hmm. Damn, I used lots of my good material in the Patriot Act…
I’ve got it! If Bob, Hank, and Condi say so! Sweet. Especially because they’re pretty good about doing what I tell them to, so essentially if I say so. This is fucking brilliant.
Okay, better throw in some legalese about the Iraq stuff…blah blah blah interfering-with-reconstruction-efforts-cakes. Whatev.
Doesn’t really matter what I say here? Know why?
WHO’S CHECKING?
Not a judge! Not a jury! Not anybody interested in issuing a warrant!
No judicial involvement of ANY KIND! The Cabinet members have the ABSOLUTE FINAL SAY!
Dude, I should have done this years ago.
What? Oh, the Constitution. Amendments Four and Five? Can you read them to me? Yeah, I used my copy as toilet paper when we ran out a while back. My bad.
4th: “The right of the people to be secure in their persons, houses, papers, and effects, against unreasonable searches and seizures, shall not be violated, and no Warrants shall issue, but upon probable cause, supported by Oath or affirmation, and particularly describing the place to be searched, and the persons or things to be seized.”
5th “No person shall be deprived of… life, liberty, or property, without due process of law.”
Well, that’s interesting, I suppose. Shame I don’t care.
Sec. 2. Anyway. No violating the rules we make up. Not allowed. Yes, that’s another rule I just made up. What, a government where one branch seizes absolute authority to make all the laws is inherently unjust and prone to corruption because that one branch can never be properly investigated? You don’t say.
Sec. 3. For the purposes of this order: the terms “person,” “entity,” and “United States person” mean whatever the hell I want them to.
Sec. 4. Thought you saw a loophole? OH SNAP, NO! Sorry.
Sec. 5. Oh, also, we don’t have to tell you when we do it. Zing!
Sec. 6. Hmmm…have I wantonly expanded the government’s power enough? Of course not! Basically, if we have to do it to carry out this order, it’s allowed. Abuse of power? What? I CAN’T HEAR YOU.
Sec. 7. *Legalese to induce brain aneurysm in case anybody read this far*
Sec. 8. Oho! You think you can use this against ME? NUH UH! I win, you lose. Hee.
Ghostwritten by me, Cheney. What, you think Shrub writes his own stuff? You guys are so cute. He’s off playing with his Xbox. Oh, by the way: nobody tell him that Condi used a cheat code to put him in God-mode in Halo. He thinks he’s winning it all by himself and it will take HOURS to shut him up if he finds out. Later, bitches. You’re ALL my bitches. BWAHAHAAHAHAHAHA!
Anyone know where I can get one of those masks from V for Vendetta?
Saturday, July 14, 2007
I can't decide if it's the freaking quarter system or the freaking science classes
I was just talking to Everyone's All-Purpose Gay Boyfriend and realized that last term, he had 9 hours of class a week and got three credits.
Me? I had 15 hours of class a week and got...two credits.
He advised me to spend more time working the system.
I am the system's bitch.
Me? I had 15 hours of class a week and got...two credits.
He advised me to spend more time working the system.
I am the system's bitch.
Thursday, July 12, 2007
It's only sad if you stop laughing
As I am wont to do, I had "forgotten" to call my house for...a few days. I answered the eighth of my mother's frantic emails when I returned from lab at 11:30. She thought the response was hillarious and called me to tell me so, even lamenting that there was no "way to publish writing like this."
Oh yes. It's a shame that no one has a way to publicize their daily random pieces of writing in an easily updatable digital format. Yup.
The email:
"i just got home from lab. shoot me. thanks. and i had my 18 millionth chicken patty for dinner AND THEY ROTATED THE ITEMS ON THE SALAD BAR AND THERE IS NO MORE HUMMUS. which is tragic because hummus was like a foodgroup for me. AND they switched out the vanilla columbo frozen yogurt for some weird strawberry bannana thing. i hate them. AND Fabulously Snarky British Girl's mom was in boston and took her to chez henri. she had a steak. we were all jealous. but lab at night is by definition horrible but actually not so bad, beause by then everyone is crazy, PLUS dr. alloise leaves, so the TAs were like SWEET let's blast music. my brain is not actually working now.
It's actually not that funny because this remains my state of mind.
I LIKE TOAST!
Oh yes. It's a shame that no one has a way to publicize their daily random pieces of writing in an easily updatable digital format. Yup.
The email:
"i just got home from lab. shoot me. thanks. and i had my 18 millionth chicken patty for dinner AND THEY ROTATED THE ITEMS ON THE SALAD BAR AND THERE IS NO MORE HUMMUS. which is tragic because hummus was like a foodgroup for me. AND they switched out the vanilla columbo frozen yogurt for some weird strawberry bannana thing. i hate them. AND Fabulously Snarky British Girl's mom was in boston and took her to chez henri. she had a steak. we were all jealous. but lab at night is by definition horrible but actually not so bad, beause by then everyone is crazy, PLUS dr. alloise leaves, so the TAs were like SWEET let's blast music. my brain is not actually working now.
It's actually not that funny because this remains my state of mind.
I LIKE TOAST!
I can't shoot him, so I'll shoot myself.
And this is why.
Honestly, what's the point of taking orgo if all of your scientific knowledge has to be explained to the freaking head of state using big colored pictures and hand puppets?
Honestly, what's the point of taking orgo if all of your scientific knowledge has to be explained to the freaking head of state using big colored pictures and hand puppets?
Saturday, July 07, 2007
Window screen: 839, Me: 0
In theory:
Catch fly with time-tested cup/slide a piece of paper under the cup method. Open window screen, release fly. Return to studying.
In practice:
Spend twenty minutes waiting for the fucking fly to JUST LAND ALREADY. Fly lands. Sneeze, spurring fly to buzz off again. Amputate nose.
Fail multiple times at dropping cup on fly. Realize that shadow is a giveaway, approach from other direction. Snag fly, engage in justified fist-pump.
Realize that you lack a suitable piece of paper to slide under. Take eyes off of cup for 1.5 seconds to get paper from printer.
Carry cup to unopened window. Open with shoulder, hit funny bone. Swear. Attempt to force screen up, curse chemistry test for inducing massive lack of nails. Bleed on screen.
Release the fly. Fly? Hello? Examine cup to see if fly has taken up refuge...no fly.
Discover fly on ceiling pointing and laughing. Consider swatting the little fucker right there.
Repeat ENTIRE AGONIZING FLY CATCHING PROCESS, but for variety, replace the ill-timed sneeze with an unfortunately ringing cell phone.
Successfully release fly. Let two enormous moths into room for a net gain of one bug.
Counsel moths, point out that love affair with giant lamp is ill-advised.
Give up, waste time writing blog post.
And that's why I'm going to fail my Orgo test! WHY CAN'T I JUST KILL A BUG? Seriously. I can't. Surprisingly, it's for once not due to my massive klutziness--fly swatters fall ino the "tennis racket" category. I just...don't actually swat. And every time, I stand there and think "You've killed mice and rats, why can't you do this?" But when you decapitate the baby rat, it's For Science, and enters the part of your brain that exists blissfully unaware, and you very carefully don't let yourself think about it. Swatting bugs---I don't know. No laboratory, no swat.
Except for mosquitos. Seriously, you come in to suck my blood, all bets are off.
Catch fly with time-tested cup/slide a piece of paper under the cup method. Open window screen, release fly. Return to studying.
In practice:
Spend twenty minutes waiting for the fucking fly to JUST LAND ALREADY. Fly lands. Sneeze, spurring fly to buzz off again. Amputate nose.
Fail multiple times at dropping cup on fly. Realize that shadow is a giveaway, approach from other direction. Snag fly, engage in justified fist-pump.
Realize that you lack a suitable piece of paper to slide under. Take eyes off of cup for 1.5 seconds to get paper from printer.
Carry cup to unopened window. Open with shoulder, hit funny bone. Swear. Attempt to force screen up, curse chemistry test for inducing massive lack of nails. Bleed on screen.
Release the fly. Fly? Hello? Examine cup to see if fly has taken up refuge...no fly.
Discover fly on ceiling pointing and laughing. Consider swatting the little fucker right there.
Repeat ENTIRE AGONIZING FLY CATCHING PROCESS, but for variety, replace the ill-timed sneeze with an unfortunately ringing cell phone.
Successfully release fly. Let two enormous moths into room for a net gain of one bug.
Counsel moths, point out that love affair with giant lamp is ill-advised.
Give up, waste time writing blog post.
And that's why I'm going to fail my Orgo test! WHY CAN'T I JUST KILL A BUG? Seriously. I can't. Surprisingly, it's for once not due to my massive klutziness--fly swatters fall ino the "tennis racket" category. I just...don't actually swat. And every time, I stand there and think "You've killed mice and rats, why can't you do this?" But when you decapitate the baby rat, it's For Science, and enters the part of your brain that exists blissfully unaware, and you very carefully don't let yourself think about it. Swatting bugs---I don't know. No laboratory, no swat.
Except for mosquitos. Seriously, you come in to suck my blood, all bets are off.
Friday, July 06, 2007
Honestly
Hello, my VAST and adoring audience!
I apologize. I take Orgo. And I have five half-written posts saved that I can't finish, because Orgo has taken the sad, pathetic humor that I had and sucked even that dry. Ooooh, dehydration synthesis reaction! (Ba-dum-CHHH!)
But honestly? I laughed when the head of the chem department at Dartmouth warned me that I would be "eating, sleeping, and breathing Orgo" but now I must admit that if Johnny Depp showed up at my door wearing nothing but a thin film of chocolate, I would tell him to fuck off.
Unless, of course, he could help me with these diastereoisomer configurations.
I apologize. I take Orgo. And I have five half-written posts saved that I can't finish, because Orgo has taken the sad, pathetic humor that I had and sucked even that dry. Ooooh, dehydration synthesis reaction! (Ba-dum-CHHH!)
But honestly? I laughed when the head of the chem department at Dartmouth warned me that I would be "eating, sleeping, and breathing Orgo" but now I must admit that if Johnny Depp showed up at my door wearing nothing but a thin film of chocolate, I would tell him to fuck off.
Unless, of course, he could help me with these diastereoisomer configurations.
Saturday, June 30, 2007
An ethical dilemma
As a fake New Yorker in Boston, I was prepared to enter a mass of people so severely misguided in their baseball team allegiences. (We will convienently ignore that I'm sretching across state lines to be in a suburb of New York AND that the Yankees are approximately three hundred million games back.)
What I was not prepared for, however, was the personally confusing juxtaposition of bumper stickers. Obviously, a person with a Red Sox bumper sticker is a complete moron, which is why they can't drive and should be honked at / cursed out / pelted with farm animals accordingly.
Yesterday, however, I saw a car whose owner had decided to display proof of his poor taste on the left side of his bumper. Typical. The RIGHT side of his bumper, however, was pure genius and you should all go purchase one. NOW.
So the question is, how is one to react to this awesomely moronic genius?
Flip them off with a smile?
Throw only half a dead woodchuck?
Suggestions welcome.
(Suggestions on how to stop blogging and STUDY FOR MY FREAKING ORGO TEST also welcome.)
What I was not prepared for, however, was the personally confusing juxtaposition of bumper stickers. Obviously, a person with a Red Sox bumper sticker is a complete moron, which is why they can't drive and should be honked at / cursed out / pelted with farm animals accordingly.
Yesterday, however, I saw a car whose owner had decided to display proof of his poor taste on the left side of his bumper. Typical. The RIGHT side of his bumper, however, was pure genius and you should all go purchase one. NOW.
So the question is, how is one to react to this awesomely moronic genius?
Flip them off with a smile?
Throw only half a dead woodchuck?
Suggestions welcome.
(Suggestions on how to stop blogging and STUDY FOR MY FREAKING ORGO TEST also welcome.)
Thursday, June 28, 2007
Wednesday, June 27, 2007
Everyone needs to immediately begin using the word prat
I'm not going to sit here and gross you out by describing exactly how much pain orgo entails. And I say gross you out because to convey it in all its supremely masochistic horror I would have to resort to really disgusting metaphors such as "taking orgo is kind of like eating a really long worm, vomitting it back up so that each end is hanging out of a nostril and then using it to floss your nose." And that was the graphic detail into which I was not going to go.
BUT.
It may not actually be that bad because ( and I am about to roll out a new nickname here people, so this is big) BECAUSE of Fabulously Snarky British Girl, who I am lucky enough to sit next to.
And seriously? There are unbelievably prats who sit in the front and ask long and involed questions about possible exceptions to resonance structures in the case of a non-delocalized carboxylic acide group and the bitchy comments are not going to make themselves.
BUT.
It may not actually be that bad because ( and I am about to roll out a new nickname here people, so this is big) BECAUSE of Fabulously Snarky British Girl, who I am lucky enough to sit next to.
And seriously? There are unbelievably prats who sit in the front and ask long and involed questions about possible exceptions to resonance structures in the case of a non-delocalized carboxylic acide group and the bitchy comments are not going to make themselves.
Tuesday, June 26, 2007
This is a chemistry experiment
The vending machine just spat out a bottle of Diet Coke from 2004. Am I drinking it? Does it have caffeine? Do I take Orgo? Will it kill me?
LET'S FIND OUT.
I would like to point out that my urget need for caffeine is incredibly weird. I'm sleeping 7-8 hours a night. HOW AM I EXHAUSTED?
Losing my game here people, losing my game.
LET'S FIND OUT.
I would like to point out that my urget need for caffeine is incredibly weird. I'm sleeping 7-8 hours a night. HOW AM I EXHAUSTED?
Losing my game here people, losing my game.
Monday, June 25, 2007
Offical Notice
I am about to begin taking Organic Chemistry.
If you don't hear from me, it's because I went insane and escaped to New Zealand
SLASH
I got desparate and slept with the prof and it didn't go well
SLASH
it did go well and the prof is with me in New Zealand.
Wish me luck, or if you're feeling really charitable, come strangle me.
If you don't hear from me, it's because I went insane and escaped to New Zealand
SLASH
I got desparate and slept with the prof and it didn't go well
SLASH
it did go well and the prof is with me in New Zealand.
Wish me luck, or if you're feeling really charitable, come strangle me.
We can't help it
If you accept admission to one of the other seven Ivies, you are legally, contracturally, and morally bound to bash Harvard at every available opportunity. As I am actually now on the Harvard campus, with some Dartmouth/other Ivy/Stanford and similar students, the bashing has begun in earnest.
Samples:
We have to walk for TWENTY MINUTES TO GET TO CLASS? Who built this place? It's too spread out! They obviously don't have a land grant.
230 people in a class? Nice professor to student ratio. I bet they have TAs. How ghetto. I refuse to be taught by a person without a Ph.D.
Oh God. The food. SUCKS. I bet they don't even use free-range eggs.
(Please note that the food does actually suck, DRAMATICALLY, and the only thing that I ate for dinner was some salad and a brownie. Which is like two food groups people, so shut it.)
That guy was SUCH AN ASSHOLE. I know. He must actually go here. It's the rule.
Um, who has swipe cards? So 90s. We have proximity RFIDs, bitches!
Oh damn...they have plasma TVs too. But look! The piano, like, isn't even a Steinway! Seriously.
Unfortunately, at the end of the day, they are still Harvard. Fuckers.
Could be worse though. I think the Yalies automatically self-destructed after stepping on campus.
//Big Green KICKS YOUR ASS, CRIMSON
///Dartmoose FTW
Samples:
We have to walk for TWENTY MINUTES TO GET TO CLASS? Who built this place? It's too spread out! They obviously don't have a land grant.
230 people in a class? Nice professor to student ratio. I bet they have TAs. How ghetto. I refuse to be taught by a person without a Ph.D.
Oh God. The food. SUCKS. I bet they don't even use free-range eggs.
(Please note that the food does actually suck, DRAMATICALLY, and the only thing that I ate for dinner was some salad and a brownie. Which is like two food groups people, so shut it.)
That guy was SUCH AN ASSHOLE. I know. He must actually go here. It's the rule.
Um, who has swipe cards? So 90s. We have proximity RFIDs, bitches!
Oh damn...they have plasma TVs too. But look! The piano, like, isn't even a Steinway! Seriously.
Unfortunately, at the end of the day, they are still Harvard. Fuckers.
Could be worse though. I think the Yalies automatically self-destructed after stepping on campus.
//Big Green KICKS YOUR ASS, CRIMSON
///Dartmoose FTW
Wednesday, June 20, 2007
Desparate times
I really hate agreeing with Hillary Clinton. It makes my spine hurt.
But unfortunately, I have no choice.
But unfortunately, I have no choice.
Sunday, June 17, 2007
My ears, my sanity
While some might postulate that one can gain great insight into another's personality by perusing his or her iTunes collection, I for one would argue that it is actually the "Purchased" playlist that is the most revealing. It's one thing to grab a handful of free songs off of Limewire or out of someone else's collection, but actually forking over CASH, digital or otherwise, demonstrates a certain degree of committment / possible neuroses.
Let's check mine! American Idol, 98 Degrees, Paula Abdul, American Idol, Fergie, American Idol...shit. Clearly, I'm slightly hyperactive and have no taste. Theory supported!
(There's some Gorillaz, The Fray, and Gwen there too, I swear.)
Anyway, I'm browsing through the house computer and thus The Forty-Year-Old Younger Sister's music. Oooh, My Chemical Romance, I should steal that...yeah, and I don't have that KT Tunstall song...Regina Spektor, interesting...Ashlee Simpson, Rascall Fl--WAIT A MINUTE.
ASHLEE SIMPSON?
I am RELATED to someone who actually PUCHASED a song by a person who sounds like a cat being strangled, has a lower IQ than said cat, thought it would be a good idea to perform an improptu HOEDOWN on SNL, and can't even spell her own freaking name properly?
There are some things you are just better off not knowing.
Let's check mine! American Idol, 98 Degrees, Paula Abdul, American Idol, Fergie, American Idol...shit. Clearly, I'm slightly hyperactive and have no taste. Theory supported!
(There's some Gorillaz, The Fray, and Gwen there too, I swear.)
Anyway, I'm browsing through the house computer and thus The Forty-Year-Old Younger Sister's music. Oooh, My Chemical Romance, I should steal that...yeah, and I don't have that KT Tunstall song...Regina Spektor, interesting...Ashlee Simpson, Rascall Fl--WAIT A MINUTE.
ASHLEE SIMPSON?
I am RELATED to someone who actually PUCHASED a song by a person who sounds like a cat being strangled, has a lower IQ than said cat, thought it would be a good idea to perform an improptu HOEDOWN on SNL, and can't even spell her own freaking name properly?
There are some things you are just better off not knowing.
Tuesday, June 12, 2007
* Insert sharp objects here *
"Ohmygod, I had SUCH a disaster at lunch today. I ate SIX of Emma's animal crackers."
Ordinarily, this space would contain a lame attempt at a biting retort which would swiftly devolve into a largely unfocused rant about our society's fixation with unattainable body images but today, it will not.
Because I'm busy training rabid woodchucks to attack me and puncture my eardrums, thus preventing me from HEARING THIS SORT OF THING.
Ordinarily, this space would contain a lame attempt at a biting retort which would swiftly devolve into a largely unfocused rant about our society's fixation with unattainable body images but today, it will not.
Because I'm busy training rabid woodchucks to attack me and puncture my eardrums, thus preventing me from HEARING THIS SORT OF THING.
Sunday, June 10, 2007
The precious little sanity I have left
Did you work out yesterday?
Yes, I played tennis.
Oh, but you didn't work out on machines.
No, I did not. I did not lock myself in a basement for two hours. I played tennis. The weather was beautiful. There was no digital readout and I do not know exactly how many calories I burned. I lost. I had a good time.
What did you eat?
I ate two eggs (96/egg = 192) cooked in 1.5 teaspoons of butter (50) with one piece of bread (75), 2 slices of ham (25/slice = 50), and one vanilla light and fit yogurt (60). And for God's sake I woke up late so that was breakfast and lunch. (427, count 450 because I didn't measure the butter exactly.)
Hmmmmm...
*Gains unique understanding of Lizzie Borden's psyche*
I swear I would go back to Dartmouth even if it were finals week every week.
Yes, I played tennis.
Oh, but you didn't work out on machines.
No, I did not. I did not lock myself in a basement for two hours. I played tennis. The weather was beautiful. There was no digital readout and I do not know exactly how many calories I burned. I lost. I had a good time.
What did you eat?
I ate two eggs (96/egg = 192) cooked in 1.5 teaspoons of butter (50) with one piece of bread (75), 2 slices of ham (25/slice = 50), and one vanilla light and fit yogurt (60). And for God's sake I woke up late so that was breakfast and lunch. (427, count 450 because I didn't measure the butter exactly.)
Hmmmmm...
*Gains unique understanding of Lizzie Borden's psyche*
I swear I would go back to Dartmouth even if it were finals week every week.
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