While traveling to spend Christmas with some of my family, I found myself waiting for a connecting flight in an airport. Next to me sat two little girls, each with an iPad. One was older, maybe 8 or 9, but the other must have been only 4 or 5.
The younger sister began drumming on the iPad with her hands, slamming her palms against the screen repeatedly and with vigor as if beating out a jungle rhythm was the only thing keeping her alive at that moment. After my heart nearly stopped at this sight, the girl then closed one of those floppy covers over the screen and began licking it.
I should've . . . grabbed the iPad away from the little girl and claimed it as my own, screaming "Never! Never! Never hit or lick an iPad! What is wrong with you?" I should've then turned to the girl's mother, wagged my finger in her face, and said "You just sit there and allow this to happen? You disgust me." I then should've begun happily playing with my newly acquired iPad, periodically yelling at the mother to make her child stop sobbing because it was throwing off my accuracy in Angry Birds.
26 December 2011
22 December 2011
(#20) The "Page Turner" I Should've
If you were to see me on the bus or T, you would most likely catch me reading a book. It's one thing I enjoy about public transit, that I can read while traveling. Reading on a bus or train, however, can be a tricky thing--when the bus or train is so full that there is only standing room, for instance.
To steady yourself, you have to hold onto a bar and hold the book in your other hand. This presents a problem when it comes time to turn the page. You have to let go of the bar to turn the page and hope that the driver doesn't do anything sudden and send you flying.
I usually just widen my stance and quickly turn the page. I did this exact thing yesterday without falling over. But, from now one, rather than turning the pages on my own . . .
I should . . . ask the person next to me to turn the page for me and then chastize them for turning the page too roughly (even if they hadn't).
To steady yourself, you have to hold onto a bar and hold the book in your other hand. This presents a problem when it comes time to turn the page. You have to let go of the bar to turn the page and hope that the driver doesn't do anything sudden and send you flying.
I usually just widen my stance and quickly turn the page. I did this exact thing yesterday without falling over. But, from now one, rather than turning the pages on my own . . .
I should . . . ask the person next to me to turn the page for me and then chastize them for turning the page too roughly (even if they hadn't).
21 December 2011
(#19) The "Security Butt Slap" I Should've
The Boston Logan Airport may be the best airport in the world. It has free Wifi with desks that have power outlets and fairly comfortable swivel chairs. What? Yeah. That's right. I travel in style.
Currently, I am waiting for my flight (at said desk, using said free Wifi, and sitting in said swivel chair), but the tale I have to tell today is of going through airport security.
I suck at airport security. I accidentally leave things in my pockets, forget liquids in my carry-ons, and I'm bald so I look like a Neo-Nazi. It's great. WHITE POWER! Just kidding.
Anyway, while going through security, my backpack got caught up. I had a wrapped Christmas gift in it, and the thorough security people deemed it worthy of further inspection.
I was somewhat disappointed because they only rescanned the package. I was hoping they would have treated me suspiciously and then made me step into one of those body scanning machines. I didn't even go so much as patted down.
I should've . . . asked--no, begged--them to do the body scan on me. Then, when they relented, because of my suspicious behavior, I would have proudly stepped into the scanning machine and gyrated my hips while the machine worked its X-ray magic. Finally, I would have slapped my butt and blown the security officers a kiss while winking dramatically and asking "Like what you see?"
There is the risk that I would have been arrested and become special Christmas friends with a large, tattooed man named Spike or Butch, but those are the types of risks I'm willing to take in these imaginary scenarios.
Currently, I am waiting for my flight (at said desk, using said free Wifi, and sitting in said swivel chair), but the tale I have to tell today is of going through airport security.
I suck at airport security. I accidentally leave things in my pockets, forget liquids in my carry-ons, and I'm bald so I look like a Neo-Nazi. It's great. WHITE POWER! Just kidding.
Anyway, while going through security, my backpack got caught up. I had a wrapped Christmas gift in it, and the thorough security people deemed it worthy of further inspection.
I was somewhat disappointed because they only rescanned the package. I was hoping they would have treated me suspiciously and then made me step into one of those body scanning machines. I didn't even go so much as patted down.
I should've . . . asked--no, begged--them to do the body scan on me. Then, when they relented, because of my suspicious behavior, I would have proudly stepped into the scanning machine and gyrated my hips while the machine worked its X-ray magic. Finally, I would have slapped my butt and blown the security officers a kiss while winking dramatically and asking "Like what you see?"
There is the risk that I would have been arrested and become special Christmas friends with a large, tattooed man named Spike or Butch, but those are the types of risks I'm willing to take in these imaginary scenarios.
15 December 2011
(#18) The "Die, Mother F-----s" I Should've
There are many people in the Boston area that ask for change.
Most people, including myself (I am ashamed to admit it, but I just don't carry cash), simply ignore these destitute individuals. For the most part, the beggars are very nice about being turned down by wishing everyone a good night or "God bless you." Tonight, however, I came across a man who did the exact opposite.
I was riding the T on my way home. A man was already sitting down and was holding a disposable cup. As soon as the doors shut and the train started moving, he loudly asked if anyone could spare a dollar or even some change.
No one gave him anything.
The man began to groan. Loudly. Streching the sound into one long, long moan of frustration.
Then, as the T stopped at the next station, he got up and proclaimed "Die, Mother F-----s! Just die! Die, Mother F-----s! Die!" in a sing-songy sort of way before jumping off the train. He continued to sing these horrible profanities as he left the station.
I should've . . . jumped to my feet and sang back to the man -- "And how, sir, should we die? A starving tiger or electrocution would be nice, but I prefer dysentery!" Of course, this would have been sung in a falsetto.
Most people, including myself (I am ashamed to admit it, but I just don't carry cash), simply ignore these destitute individuals. For the most part, the beggars are very nice about being turned down by wishing everyone a good night or "God bless you." Tonight, however, I came across a man who did the exact opposite.
I was riding the T on my way home. A man was already sitting down and was holding a disposable cup. As soon as the doors shut and the train started moving, he loudly asked if anyone could spare a dollar or even some change.
No one gave him anything.
The man began to groan. Loudly. Streching the sound into one long, long moan of frustration.
Then, as the T stopped at the next station, he got up and proclaimed "Die, Mother F-----s! Just die! Die, Mother F-----s! Die!" in a sing-songy sort of way before jumping off the train. He continued to sing these horrible profanities as he left the station.
I should've . . . jumped to my feet and sang back to the man -- "And how, sir, should we die? A starving tiger or electrocution would be nice, but I prefer dysentery!" Of course, this would have been sung in a falsetto.
13 December 2011
(#17) The "Tappa Tappa" I Should've
Tonight, while I was riding the T home, there was a woman that caught my attention.
It wasn't because she was extremely beautiful or disfigured. It wasn't because she smelt funny. It wasn't because she was carrying three 20-pound burlap sacks of rice.
It was because she was tap dancing.
She had a straight face and kept tapping her feet back and forth and sliding them around as if she was preparing for some spectacular recital.
I should've . . . gotten up from my seat and yelled "No! You're doing it all wrong! It's one--tappa tappa--slide--shuffle--tappa tappa! Not one--two--shuffle--shuffle--tappa tappa--slide! Straighten that back! You look like Quasimodo! And where are your jazz hands?!" while wildly demonstrating the correct tap movements (with accompanying jazz hands) and becoming increasingly frustrated when she couldn't keep up with the lesson.
It wasn't because she was extremely beautiful or disfigured. It wasn't because she smelt funny. It wasn't because she was carrying three 20-pound burlap sacks of rice.
It was because she was tap dancing.
She had a straight face and kept tapping her feet back and forth and sliding them around as if she was preparing for some spectacular recital.
I should've . . . gotten up from my seat and yelled "No! You're doing it all wrong! It's one--tappa tappa--slide--shuffle--tappa tappa! Not one--two--shuffle--shuffle--tappa tappa--slide! Straighten that back! You look like Quasimodo! And where are your jazz hands?!" while wildly demonstrating the correct tap movements (with accompanying jazz hands) and becoming increasingly frustrated when she couldn't keep up with the lesson.
06 December 2011
(#16) The "He's Lying!" I should've
Last night, I got on the number 66 bus. There was a fellow passenger, a man, who was on his phone. He was very defensively telling the person on the other end that he was on the number 1 bus and that he had been stuck in Central Square for over an hour. I don't know who he was talking to or why he was lying, but he was not speaking a single word of truth.
I should've . . . grabbed the phone from the lying man and screamed into the phone that "He's lying! He's on the number 1 bus! He didn't even come from Central Square, and if he's on this bus then there's no way he could've been there any time recently! He's lying to you! Don't trust him! He could've been killing someone!" After this outburst, I should've then handed the phone back to the man, smiled, and told him to have a nice evening.
I should've . . . grabbed the phone from the lying man and screamed into the phone that "He's lying! He's on the number 1 bus! He didn't even come from Central Square, and if he's on this bus then there's no way he could've been there any time recently! He's lying to you! Don't trust him! He could've been killing someone!" After this outburst, I should've then handed the phone back to the man, smiled, and told him to have a nice evening.
03 December 2011
(#15) The "Common Chivalrous Acts" I Should've
Tonight, I went to a Winter Gala (gala = snobby word for party) which my church hosted. It was a formal event, so everyone was dressed well, and many of the people in attendance came as couples.
Upon leaving the gala, my two friends and me got into a car and were about to leave when a couple approached their vehicle not far from ours. I knew the girl personally, had even complimented her on her dress (such a gentleman, I am).
I watched to see if her date, which was not her boyfriend or anyone she had been seeing regularly, would open her car door for her. He did not. He went straight to the driver's side. I mean, come on. You just came from a gala and you're dressed to the nines. And I know you're only getting into a Corolla, but still.
I should've . . . rolled down my window and yelled, "What are you thinking?! Open the freaking car door for your date! Jeeze! Get a clue, buddy!" then I should've pointed to the girl and yelled "Don't even so much as kiss that loser! He's probably really bad at it, anyway! Just like how bad he is at common chivalrous acts such as opening a car door for a lady!" and continued yelling other similar things until the friend who was driving me home sped away in order to avoid further embarrassment.
Upon leaving the gala, my two friends and me got into a car and were about to leave when a couple approached their vehicle not far from ours. I knew the girl personally, had even complimented her on her dress (such a gentleman, I am).
I watched to see if her date, which was not her boyfriend or anyone she had been seeing regularly, would open her car door for her. He did not. He went straight to the driver's side. I mean, come on. You just came from a gala and you're dressed to the nines. And I know you're only getting into a Corolla, but still.
I should've . . . rolled down my window and yelled, "What are you thinking?! Open the freaking car door for your date! Jeeze! Get a clue, buddy!" then I should've pointed to the girl and yelled "Don't even so much as kiss that loser! He's probably really bad at it, anyway! Just like how bad he is at common chivalrous acts such as opening a car door for a lady!" and continued yelling other similar things until the friend who was driving me home sped away in order to avoid further embarrassment.
30 November 2011
(#14) The "Dead Bodies" I Should've
While I love my graduate program and the classes I am currently taking, I do not enjoy the fact that these classes are night classes. I would much rather be having fun at night rather than sitting in a classroom and trying to ward off sleepiness.
At any rate, my night classes are 3 hours and 45 minutes long, in the middle of which we have a 15-20 minute break.
Tonight, as I left the classroom at the break, I overheard a conversation.
Girl #1 - "What are you guys up to?"
Girl #2 - "Oh, not much. We're just going to go look at some dead bodies."
I turned to my classmates, who were also fleeing the classroom to take advantage of our precious break, and gave them an incredulous, jealous look.
I should've . . . fallen to my knees, grabbed onto the girls' legs, began sobbing, and begged "Take me with you! Take me with you!"
28 November 2011
(#13) The "Sour Smasher" I Should've
In an attempt to avoid walking all the way to the grocery store (about 8 minutes each way), I simply crossed the street to the 7-Eleven in hopes of finding some sour cream for the delicious Spicy Chicken Soup I was planning to make for dinner. Haza! They did have sour cream! And even though I had to pay $2.99 for it, I was happy to have avoided the longer walk.
Only, when I got home, I noticed something on my hand. It was white and sticky. Now, you stop it, pervert. It was only sour cream. When I had made my convenience store purchase, I hadn't noticed that the sour cream container had been broken open just under the lid. Wanting to avoid food poisoning, I took the sour cream back to the 7-Eleven, fully expecting a smooth swap.
Boy, was I a fool! The clerk accused me of dropping the container, thus breaking it myself, and lying about it! He insisted that there was no way the break could have been missed when they rang up the sour cream and refused to switch it for me. I tried to tell him that I wouldn't waste my time and lie about it if it had been my fault, but that I wanted it to be switched since some employee had dropped it and then put it back on the shelf. I tried to reason with the man, but he would not even look at me.
I should've . . . squeezed the sour cream out of the broken container onto the counter and said something like "There. Now I broke the container."
Instead, I left.
I may want to buy a Slurpee from there at some point.
Only, when I got home, I noticed something on my hand. It was white and sticky. Now, you stop it, pervert. It was only sour cream. When I had made my convenience store purchase, I hadn't noticed that the sour cream container had been broken open just under the lid. Wanting to avoid food poisoning, I took the sour cream back to the 7-Eleven, fully expecting a smooth swap.
Boy, was I a fool! The clerk accused me of dropping the container, thus breaking it myself, and lying about it! He insisted that there was no way the break could have been missed when they rang up the sour cream and refused to switch it for me. I tried to tell him that I wouldn't waste my time and lie about it if it had been my fault, but that I wanted it to be switched since some employee had dropped it and then put it back on the shelf. I tried to reason with the man, but he would not even look at me.
I should've . . . squeezed the sour cream out of the broken container onto the counter and said something like "There. Now I broke the container."
Instead, I left.
I may want to buy a Slurpee from there at some point.
26 November 2011
(#12) The "Deal Schmeal" I Should've
I am a very thrifty person who is a sucker for deals. So, when Black Friday rolls around, I always find myself shivering in the cold late on Thanksgiving night as I await the midnight, 4:00 am, or 6:00 am store openings which promise UNBELIEVABLE DEALS!
This being my first Black Friday in the Boston area, I assumed/hoped that it would be outrageous--grandmothers cursing, people punching the aforementioned cursing grandmothers in their faces, children pickpockets, random barnyard animals roaming about, helicopter crashes, police in riot gear. Sadly, my expectations were not fulfilled. For the most part, the area where I was shopping was pretty dead, in comparison to normal shopping days, let alone the Black Fridays I've braved and conquered. Why was Boston's Black Friday so pathetic, you may ask? I'll tell you. Because most of the deals sucked.
There were, in fact, very few deals which I found impressive. And, unfortunately, most of the good deals were things I did not want, need for myself, or need to buy for anyone else. I became somewhat frustrated by this due to the fact that I had stayed up overnight and had stood in the cold for hours.
I should've . . . started grabbing up the "deal" items which weren't really deals and shook them angrily in the air, screaming "This is not a deal! What is this crap?!" and then threw the items on the ground and spit on them. After doing this to several "deal" items, I should have stormed out of the store while glaring and pointing at random employees, shouting "You! It's all your fault! Stop wasting my time!"
or I should've . . . taken a cart full of normally priced or "deal" items up to the register and then let them ring everything up, at which point I would act confused at the astronomical total and begin to review the prices while showing my utter disgust and declaring "What is wrong here? This is all so expensive! Is today Black Friday? I just don't understand! Why is everything to expensive?!" I would then try to haggle down the prices to what I believe were appropriate for Black Friday until I was escorted off the property.
or I should've . . . kept approaching random employees and saying "I'm sorry, but where are the deals? I don't see any here. I came for deals, but there doesn't seem to be any. Why would you lie like that? Why? Why? I'm so cold from standing outside all night. All night. I'm ever so cold. And there are no deals? Why would you lie to me like that? Why? Do you hate me? Why do you hate me?"
This being my first Black Friday in the Boston area, I assumed/hoped that it would be outrageous--grandmothers cursing, people punching the aforementioned cursing grandmothers in their faces, children pickpockets, random barnyard animals roaming about, helicopter crashes, police in riot gear. Sadly, my expectations were not fulfilled. For the most part, the area where I was shopping was pretty dead, in comparison to normal shopping days, let alone the Black Fridays I've braved and conquered. Why was Boston's Black Friday so pathetic, you may ask? I'll tell you. Because most of the deals sucked.
There were, in fact, very few deals which I found impressive. And, unfortunately, most of the good deals were things I did not want, need for myself, or need to buy for anyone else. I became somewhat frustrated by this due to the fact that I had stayed up overnight and had stood in the cold for hours.
I should've . . . started grabbing up the "deal" items which weren't really deals and shook them angrily in the air, screaming "This is not a deal! What is this crap?!" and then threw the items on the ground and spit on them. After doing this to several "deal" items, I should have stormed out of the store while glaring and pointing at random employees, shouting "You! It's all your fault! Stop wasting my time!"
or I should've . . . taken a cart full of normally priced or "deal" items up to the register and then let them ring everything up, at which point I would act confused at the astronomical total and begin to review the prices while showing my utter disgust and declaring "What is wrong here? This is all so expensive! Is today Black Friday? I just don't understand! Why is everything to expensive?!" I would then try to haggle down the prices to what I believe were appropriate for Black Friday until I was escorted off the property.
or I should've . . . kept approaching random employees and saying "I'm sorry, but where are the deals? I don't see any here. I came for deals, but there doesn't seem to be any. Why would you lie like that? Why? Why? I'm so cold from standing outside all night. All night. I'm ever so cold. And there are no deals? Why would you lie to me like that? Why? Do you hate me? Why do you hate me?"
22 November 2011
(#11) The "Bus Ambush" I Should've
I have a desk in my room which faces the triple window that overlooks our little balcony and the busy street on which we live. I like to leave the blinds open, day and night, especially night, so I can see the cars and people either driving or walking by.
The other day, I was sitting at my desk, doing some homework, when a school bus stopped on the street in front of my apartment (I live next to a stoplight). I was confused because the bus was filled with elementary school aged children, yet it was only 2:00 pm. Why were they out of school so early? I don't know. What should I have done about it?
I should've . . . ran to my fridge, grabbed my carton of eggs, and then crouched on the balcony and egged the bus, hopefully getting one or two in through an open window and hitting a kid. That would teach them to get out of school early.
The other day, I was sitting at my desk, doing some homework, when a school bus stopped on the street in front of my apartment (I live next to a stoplight). I was confused because the bus was filled with elementary school aged children, yet it was only 2:00 pm. Why were they out of school so early? I don't know. What should I have done about it?
I should've . . . ran to my fridge, grabbed my carton of eggs, and then crouched on the balcony and egged the bus, hopefully getting one or two in through an open window and hitting a kid. That would teach them to get out of school early.
13 November 2011
(#10) The "Snip" I Should've
Every Tuesday and Wednesday night after class, I walk through a specific T station to hop onto a train and head home. In this T-station is a very thin man whose face is void of all emotion. He sits on a bench with a one-stringed instrument that seems to have been made out of fishing wire and a miniature croquet mallet. And with a little violin-like bow, he pulls the strangest melodies out of this odd musical device, setting a tissue box out in front of him as a donation receptical.
The gentler side of me wants to drop some change into this tiny, expressionless man's little tissue box. But what I really want to do is carry a pair of scissors in my pocket and then snip the string on his instrument as I'm walking past.
The gentler side of me wants to drop some change into this tiny, expressionless man's little tissue box. But what I really want to do is carry a pair of scissors in my pocket and then snip the string on his instrument as I'm walking past.
12 November 2011
(#9) The "Extra, Extra" I Should've
I had to run some errands last night. I needed to 1) Go to CVS and get some cold medicine, and 2) Go to the bookstore to retrieve my forgotten umbrella. I first went to CVS. As I left, a man selling newspapers just outside of the door tried to get to me buy one. I told him "I'm sorry" and kept walking.
After getting my umbrella from the bookstore, I had to walk past the CVS. The man was still trying to sell his papers and was still having difficulties doing so. I watched a woman totally blow him off. Frustrated, he began to mutter "Why won't people buy a freaking paper?"
I kept walking, but I should've . . . stopped to show him how to successfully sell a newspaper, holding the paper high over my head and screaming "Extra, extra!" while making up outrageous headlines such as "Obama Reveals His Third Nipple!" or "Al-Qaeda Unleases Spaghetti Monster Upon the World!" or "Hoverboards are No Longer a Thing of the Future! Order Your Hoverboard Today!"
After getting my umbrella from the bookstore, I had to walk past the CVS. The man was still trying to sell his papers and was still having difficulties doing so. I watched a woman totally blow him off. Frustrated, he began to mutter "Why won't people buy a freaking paper?"
I kept walking, but I should've . . . stopped to show him how to successfully sell a newspaper, holding the paper high over my head and screaming "Extra, extra!" while making up outrageous headlines such as "Obama Reveals His Third Nipple!" or "Al-Qaeda Unleases Spaghetti Monster Upon the World!" or "Hoverboards are No Longer a Thing of the Future! Order Your Hoverboard Today!"
09 November 2011
(#8) The "Nerd Herpes" I Should've
Just a few moments ago, I was walking down the sidewalk in downtown Boston. A man came out of a building. He was a tall, skinny man, and he began walking ahead of me. He was wearing a tight blue sweater with (REEE REEE REEE) plaid elbow patches. I hate sweaters. I hate elbow patches. Combining the two and then forcing me to look at this hideous combination is like some kind of a sick joke.
I Should've . . . ran up to the man and screamed "Oh, my gosh! There's something on you! There's something on you!" I should've then ripped off each elbow patch, thrown them to the ground, and began stomping on them in a very dramatic, jumpy way. Afterwards, I should've sighed and said "Whew. That was close. You could've gotten nerd herpes."
I Should've . . . ran up to the man and screamed "Oh, my gosh! There's something on you! There's something on you!" I should've then ripped off each elbow patch, thrown them to the ground, and began stomping on them in a very dramatic, jumpy way. Afterwards, I should've sighed and said "Whew. That was close. You could've gotten nerd herpes."
08 November 2011
(#7) The "Not Begging" I Should've
Today, I saw a man sitting down and leaning against the wall of a building. He was smoking and had a lidded coffee cup sitting next to him.
I Should've . . . set some change on top of his coffee cup lid as if he was begging, even though he clearly was not, patted him on the head, and said "Cheer up, buddy. Times will get better" and then walked away.
I Should've . . . set some change on top of his coffee cup lid as if he was begging, even though he clearly was not, patted him on the head, and said "Cheer up, buddy. Times will get better" and then walked away.
05 November 2011
(#6) The "Balloon Jerks" I Should've
Last night, I was waiting at a bus stop. It was late, closing in on midnight, so there was goodly number of people walking around. Across the road, a group of balloons was tied to the pole. I have no idea why they were there.
A group of five men walked by, saw the balloons, began to break the strings tying the balloons to the pole, and released the multi-colored helium-filled sacks of plastic into the night air.
I Should've . . . ran over to them just as the last balloons floated away, crying, and waving my arms and stomping my feet and jumping around like an angry toddler, screaming "Those are my balloons! Those are my balloons! Why did you do that?!"
A group of five men walked by, saw the balloons, began to break the strings tying the balloons to the pole, and released the multi-colored helium-filled sacks of plastic into the night air.
I Should've . . . ran over to them just as the last balloons floated away, crying, and waving my arms and stomping my feet and jumping around like an angry toddler, screaming "Those are my balloons! Those are my balloons! Why did you do that?!"
02 November 2011
(#5) The "Donut Crusher" I Should've . . .
You may not be able to tell by just looking at me, but I go to the gym three times a week to lift weights. I am, in fact, so eco-friendly and health conscious that I even bike there and back (this is in no way explained by the fact that I do not currently own a car).
On my way to and from the gym, I cut through the parking lot of a Dunkin Donuts. I know you're not suppose to do that, but it saves me a whole three seconds . . . some of the time. There are times when I get held up in that oh, so busy parking lot. I often find myself having to slow down or even stop because cars are backing out of spots or are pulling into the lot and almost hitting me or because people are oblivious to the fact that they have just stepped out and began walking in front of me. It's like they're zombies and all they can think about is their precious coffee and donuts. It frustrates me.
Rather than being outwardly nice by not doing anything about this, I should . . . swoop around the annoying people who are walking to their cars, grab the coffee of one, throw it into the open door of someone else's vehicle, and then nab the donut of another person (preferably just as they are about to take their first bite), crush it in my hands, let the pieces fall to the filthy concrete, and just keep biking.
I would love to do this every morning.
On my way to and from the gym, I cut through the parking lot of a Dunkin Donuts. I know you're not suppose to do that, but it saves me a whole three seconds . . . some of the time. There are times when I get held up in that oh, so busy parking lot. I often find myself having to slow down or even stop because cars are backing out of spots or are pulling into the lot and almost hitting me or because people are oblivious to the fact that they have just stepped out and began walking in front of me. It's like they're zombies and all they can think about is their precious coffee and donuts. It frustrates me.
Rather than being outwardly nice by not doing anything about this, I should . . . swoop around the annoying people who are walking to their cars, grab the coffee of one, throw it into the open door of someone else's vehicle, and then nab the donut of another person (preferably just as they are about to take their first bite), crush it in my hands, let the pieces fall to the filthy concrete, and just keep biking.
I would love to do this every morning.
31 October 2011
(#4) The "Church Smoochies" I Should've . . .
I was sitting in church. I was trying to pay attention so I could have a spiritually enlightening experience. The key word is "trying". I was having a hard time focusing because of some young couple that couldn't stop pathetically pecking each other on the lips. They had their arms around each other, her arm across his chest and his arm around her back, and they kept randomly turning their heads and gently kissing each other and then turning away . . . again and again and again.
I'm all for love. Love is awesome. I'm glad they're in love, or at least some degree of infatuation, but they don't need to be so mushy IN CHURCH. It also didn't help that their kissing was very awkward and almost mechanical--but in a jerky, unsure way.
I should've . . . leaned forward, bit the guy's arm that was laying across the back of the pew, and told him, when he turned around, that he was being awkward and should stop--stop it that instant!
I'm all for love. Love is awesome. I'm glad they're in love, or at least some degree of infatuation, but they don't need to be so mushy IN CHURCH. It also didn't help that their kissing was very awkward and almost mechanical--but in a jerky, unsure way.
I should've . . . leaned forward, bit the guy's arm that was laying across the back of the pew, and told him, when he turned around, that he was being awkward and should stop--stop it that instant!
29 October 2011
(#3) The "Sex Noises" I Should've . . .
Today, I heard the first sex noises in my new apartment. I was in the kitchen and making myself a tuna sandwich--two of them to be precise--when I heard soft, feminine sex noises just barely penetrating a bedroom door.
I should've . . . knocked on the door and then, when my roommate opened the door, asked some kind of stupid question, like if he was interested in pitching some money for an apartment vacuum or if he had seen any socks lying around because I'd lost a sock and I wanted my sock so I didn't just have one lone sock because that's really annoying.
I should've . . . knocked on the door and then, when my roommate opened the door, asked some kind of stupid question, like if he was interested in pitching some money for an apartment vacuum or if he had seen any socks lying around because I'd lost a sock and I wanted my sock so I didn't just have one lone sock because that's really annoying.
27 October 2011
(#2) The "Freddy Beggar" I Should've . . .
Today, I was coming out of a T station. A man with a face which had been burnt very badly was holding a styrofoam cup and asking for change. I smiled at him, nodded, and continued on my way without giving him any money.
I SHOULD'VE . . . , in the spirit of Halloween, offered the panhandler $4.27 (in change) to dress up like Freddy Kruger and take part in a Halloween photo shoot. It would have been perfect.
I SHOULD'VE . . . , in the spirit of Halloween, offered the panhandler $4.27 (in change) to dress up like Freddy Kruger and take part in a Halloween photo shoot. It would have been perfect.
25 October 2011
I Should've . . .
After about two weeks of not even having the desire to write in my blog, I have come to a conclusion . . . I have to find something I want to write about otherwise my blog is going to go gently into that goodnight.
I loved writing about my worthless jobs, but since I am currently unemployed and don't have any plans of becoming employed anytime soon, I have to come up with a new category of blog entries to keep me--and hopefull you--interested.
I have actually been toying around with the idea of starting a new blog to fit this purpose, but why abandon My Worthless Degree? It's a sweet freaking name that can work with what I want to do for this new blog idea, anyway.
I hope you're interested, because I'm very excited about this new category of blog entries. They will be called the "I SHOULD'VE" entires.
From now until an undisclosed point in time, I will post things which I wish I had done. Let me explain.
I sometimes wish my life was a sitcom. If you look at the things characters in sitcoms do, they get away with so much with no lasting consequences! I have often found myself looking back at certain times where I could have done something completey socially unacceptable yet hilarious, but didn't because of the social constructs which I allow to shackle my free spirit.
So, from now on, I'm going to write about the situations where I found myself "I should have . . ."
Are you ready? Here's the first one.
The other day, I was walking across Boston Common, chewing some gum. Someone was sitting on a bench. They began to yawn. Their mouth gaped wide open.
I SHOULD'VE spit my gum into their open mouth and kept on walking.
Stay tuned for more.
I loved writing about my worthless jobs, but since I am currently unemployed and don't have any plans of becoming employed anytime soon, I have to come up with a new category of blog entries to keep me--and hopefull you--interested.
I have actually been toying around with the idea of starting a new blog to fit this purpose, but why abandon My Worthless Degree? It's a sweet freaking name that can work with what I want to do for this new blog idea, anyway.
I hope you're interested, because I'm very excited about this new category of blog entries. They will be called the "I SHOULD'VE" entires.
From now until an undisclosed point in time, I will post things which I wish I had done. Let me explain.
I sometimes wish my life was a sitcom. If you look at the things characters in sitcoms do, they get away with so much with no lasting consequences! I have often found myself looking back at certain times where I could have done something completey socially unacceptable yet hilarious, but didn't because of the social constructs which I allow to shackle my free spirit.
So, from now on, I'm going to write about the situations where I found myself "I should have . . ."
Are you ready? Here's the first one.
The other day, I was walking across Boston Common, chewing some gum. Someone was sitting on a bench. They began to yawn. Their mouth gaped wide open.
I SHOULD'VE spit my gum into their open mouth and kept on walking.
Stay tuned for more.
09 October 2011
Gutso
It's that time again, boys and girls! Halloween is nearly upon us!
In preparation for this most joyous of holidays, I have begun to make decorations. I will now carry you through the process of dressing up Gutso, the bear, for Halloween.
First, find a teddy bear for super cheap at a thrift store. This one cost $3.26. What a bargain!
Then, rip the thing open in several places.
In preparation for this most joyous of holidays, I have begun to make decorations. I will now carry you through the process of dressing up Gutso, the bear, for Halloween.
First, find a teddy bear for super cheap at a thrift store. This one cost $3.26. What a bargain!
Then, rip the thing open in several places.
Add fake blood.
Add more fake blood (I recommend that you stock up on blood. I ran out and wished I had more. I plan to purchase additional blood and gore him up even more) and use a lighter to burn the bear and make it look even more disgusting.
Isn't he cute?
08 October 2011
My Sushi Training Secrets
After having my sushi disaster a few weeks ago (see Sushi = Difficult), I was prepared for a long struggle to become a sushi master. The websites that claimed they could teach me how to make sushi all seemed to be omitting important details, and I was unable to find answers to my questions anywhere. And then one of my roommates told me about how my landlord teaches a sushi rolling class.
I thought maybe I could get into the class for free. I mean, I am his best tenant, right? Is there a better way for him to show his appreciation?
There must be, because I ended up paying full price for the class ($85), but I suppose it was worth it. The price was offset by the gut-busting amount of sushi I ate during the class and the massive sushi plate I took home afterwards (see picture to the right).
So, today, I will reveal the vital secrets I learned during my sushi class :
1) The Internet will tell you that you need to mix rice vinegar, sugar, and salt to make a seasoning for your rice. I bought a $7 bottle of rice vinegar and found that it smelt like the raunchiest feet that have ever stunk up this world and that no amount of sugar can neutralize the stench. SECRET : There is such a thing called Sushi Vinegar. It is premixed and does not smell of feet. Use that instead of your own attempted mixture.
2) One of the biggest problems I had last time was figuring out how to cook the rice. The Internet kept giving me different directions, none of which worked very well. SECRET : The best way to cook rice for sushi is in a rice cooker. If you can get one, do it (my landlord and lady are going to loan me one). Use a little less water per amount of rice. Example : 1 cup rice to 7/8ths cups water.
3) When making making your sushi roll, the rice will stick to your hands. SECRET : The rice will not stick to your hands if you keep them wet. You don't want them super wet because then the water will get into the rice and it will not stick together, but find a happy medium and you're golden.
4) The amount of rice you need to put on your seaweed is very important. Does the Internet tell you much about it? It sure doesn't. SECRETS : A) Use a good amount of rice so that the seaweed is covered but so that it is not too weighed down. You have to discover a happy medium. B) Don't pack the rice too tightly onto your seaweed. When you roll the sushi, there must be room for the rice to smoosh and stick together. C) If you want the seaweed on the outside of your roll, leave about a half inch along one edge of it rice free (see picture to left). If you want a roll with the rice on the outside, cover the entire piece of seaweed. D) Make sure you spread the rice evenly all the way to the edges you want covered or else the end pieces of your roll will be flimsy and fall apart because there is nothing holding it together.
5) Cutting sushi is very difficult. My knife kept smashing the sushi and tearing it apart. SECRET : Water is necessary. Dip your knife in water and use quick, short sawing motions. It will keep your sushi from falling apart.
Of course, I am no sushi expert (yet), so there are many other tips and secrets which have not been included in this blog entry, but these are some very crucial tidbits of information. I would recommend taking a class so you can see how it is done in person, or at least watch a video instead of relying on written instructions which appear to be all-encompassing at first but leave you confused when you finally get to making your sushi.
Good luck!
I thought maybe I could get into the class for free. I mean, I am his best tenant, right? Is there a better way for him to show his appreciation?There must be, because I ended up paying full price for the class ($85), but I suppose it was worth it. The price was offset by the gut-busting amount of sushi I ate during the class and the massive sushi plate I took home afterwards (see picture to the right).
So, today, I will reveal the vital secrets I learned during my sushi class :
1) The Internet will tell you that you need to mix rice vinegar, sugar, and salt to make a seasoning for your rice. I bought a $7 bottle of rice vinegar and found that it smelt like the raunchiest feet that have ever stunk up this world and that no amount of sugar can neutralize the stench. SECRET : There is such a thing called Sushi Vinegar. It is premixed and does not smell of feet. Use that instead of your own attempted mixture.
2) One of the biggest problems I had last time was figuring out how to cook the rice. The Internet kept giving me different directions, none of which worked very well. SECRET : The best way to cook rice for sushi is in a rice cooker. If you can get one, do it (my landlord and lady are going to loan me one). Use a little less water per amount of rice. Example : 1 cup rice to 7/8ths cups water.
3) When making making your sushi roll, the rice will stick to your hands. SECRET : The rice will not stick to your hands if you keep them wet. You don't want them super wet because then the water will get into the rice and it will not stick together, but find a happy medium and you're golden.
4) The amount of rice you need to put on your seaweed is very important. Does the Internet tell you much about it? It sure doesn't. SECRETS : A) Use a good amount of rice so that the seaweed is covered but so that it is not too weighed down. You have to discover a happy medium. B) Don't pack the rice too tightly onto your seaweed. When you roll the sushi, there must be room for the rice to smoosh and stick together. C) If you want the seaweed on the outside of your roll, leave about a half inch along one edge of it rice free (see picture to left). If you want a roll with the rice on the outside, cover the entire piece of seaweed. D) Make sure you spread the rice evenly all the way to the edges you want covered or else the end pieces of your roll will be flimsy and fall apart because there is nothing holding it together. 
5) Cutting sushi is very difficult. My knife kept smashing the sushi and tearing it apart. SECRET : Water is necessary. Dip your knife in water and use quick, short sawing motions. It will keep your sushi from falling apart.
Of course, I am no sushi expert (yet), so there are many other tips and secrets which have not been included in this blog entry, but these are some very crucial tidbits of information. I would recommend taking a class so you can see how it is done in person, or at least watch a video instead of relying on written instructions which appear to be all-encompassing at first but leave you confused when you finally get to making your sushi.
Good luck!
05 October 2011
Pigeon Man and DJ Nitetrain
Oh, Boston, how I love thee and your masses of peculiar people.
Today, I was riding the T (Boston's subway) and noticed a strange man standing across the car from me. I will list what I noticed and thought about him in chronological order :
1) That guy is dancing (bending his knees so he bounced up and down and moving his arms and hands like he was a DJ -- scratching vinyl and adjusting knobs).
2) That guy is really tall and heavyset.
3) That guy doesn't look like the type to be dancing in public.
4) Oh, he's listening to music on big headphones.
5) He has a lot of rainbows on his clothes (a rainbow belt and belt buckle, a rainbow case covering his mini-disk player, and his headphones were colored like rainbows with Sharpie markers).
6) He has a large teddy bear with two smaller teddy bears tied to it. Why?
7) The case of the man's mini-disc player says DJ Nitetrain.
8) It's daytime.
9) Does he ride around and do this at night?
10) Does he do this to try and get money?
11) Is he practicing for his nightly train air DJ jam sessions?
10) Oh, crap, he just smiled at me. Look away!
After getting off the T and walking across Boston Common, I saw a man. But this was no ordinary man. He had dozens of pigeons hopping around his feet and several of them on his head and shoulders.
I tried to see if he had lured the pigeons with some kind of food, but I didn't see anything. I just think he has a special connection with those winged rats. I like to imagine that they all latch onto him and carry him from place to place.
I wanted to talk to him but he was already having a conversation with some woman. I felt like interrupting strangers is weird enough without asking why one of them is crawling with pigeons. I kept walking.
Today, I was riding the T (Boston's subway) and noticed a strange man standing across the car from me. I will list what I noticed and thought about him in chronological order :
1) That guy is dancing (bending his knees so he bounced up and down and moving his arms and hands like he was a DJ -- scratching vinyl and adjusting knobs).
2) That guy is really tall and heavyset.
3) That guy doesn't look like the type to be dancing in public.
4) Oh, he's listening to music on big headphones.
5) He has a lot of rainbows on his clothes (a rainbow belt and belt buckle, a rainbow case covering his mini-disk player, and his headphones were colored like rainbows with Sharpie markers).
6) He has a large teddy bear with two smaller teddy bears tied to it. Why?
7) The case of the man's mini-disc player says DJ Nitetrain.
8) It's daytime.
9) Does he ride around and do this at night?
10) Does he do this to try and get money?
11) Is he practicing for his nightly train air DJ jam sessions?
10) Oh, crap, he just smiled at me. Look away!
After getting off the T and walking across Boston Common, I saw a man. But this was no ordinary man. He had dozens of pigeons hopping around his feet and several of them on his head and shoulders.
I tried to see if he had lured the pigeons with some kind of food, but I didn't see anything. I just think he has a special connection with those winged rats. I like to imagine that they all latch onto him and carry him from place to place.
I wanted to talk to him but he was already having a conversation with some woman. I felt like interrupting strangers is weird enough without asking why one of them is crawling with pigeons. I kept walking.
03 October 2011
Pierre Panda, the Cyborg Pirate King of Time Capsules
It is official. My group has decided to go with the children's time capsule book (see The Trouble with Time Capsules).
I am somewhat disappointed that we did not use my most amazing of ideas, but I am happy that we are well on our way with the project. I have been lucky enough to be paired with three very motivated and intelligent women, and I actually feel bad because I feel that they have done most of the work thus far.
As for the content of the book, readers will be carried through a cute narrative about a grandfather, named Gramps, telling his grandchildren, Zoey and her adopted Asian brother, Lucas, about time capsules. The children will not be very enthusiastic about time capsules at first but will gain excitement as they learn about the importance, history, and fun that surrounds such important historical preservation methods.
Did you just gag? I did.
It sounds very cheesey, but I think it will also be fun. We will, after all, have cartoons and semi-bratty kids. Oh, the possibilities!
I feel sorry for the other groups in my class. There are two other groups. One's book is an academic books about gospel music. It is intended for scholars and will be written by a professor. Boring. The other group's book is going to be a how-to guide about various legal circumstances that college students may find themselves in. The book will provide all kinds of legal information and will be semi-playful. Better, but it's no children's time capsule book.
In our most recent group meeting, we debated over having the characters be animals instead of humans. Someone suggested that we have a panda and set our imagination abalze.
The room we were meeting in had a dry erase board and someone attempted to draw a panda head but ended up with something that resembled Mickey Mouse. I tried to fix it buy giving the head a body with lettuce-like arms and legs. I also embellished by adding an eyepatch over one eye and a red, glowing cyborg eye for the other. I also named him Pierre Panda, the Cyborg Pirate King of Time Capsules.
Sadly, we won't be using Pierre in our book. He will, however, remain our unofficial group mascot. Now all we need is a fight song . . . written in French.
I am somewhat disappointed that we did not use my most amazing of ideas, but I am happy that we are well on our way with the project. I have been lucky enough to be paired with three very motivated and intelligent women, and I actually feel bad because I feel that they have done most of the work thus far.
As for the content of the book, readers will be carried through a cute narrative about a grandfather, named Gramps, telling his grandchildren, Zoey and her adopted Asian brother, Lucas, about time capsules. The children will not be very enthusiastic about time capsules at first but will gain excitement as they learn about the importance, history, and fun that surrounds such important historical preservation methods.
Did you just gag? I did.
It sounds very cheesey, but I think it will also be fun. We will, after all, have cartoons and semi-bratty kids. Oh, the possibilities!
I feel sorry for the other groups in my class. There are two other groups. One's book is an academic books about gospel music. It is intended for scholars and will be written by a professor. Boring. The other group's book is going to be a how-to guide about various legal circumstances that college students may find themselves in. The book will provide all kinds of legal information and will be semi-playful. Better, but it's no children's time capsule book.
In our most recent group meeting, we debated over having the characters be animals instead of humans. Someone suggested that we have a panda and set our imagination abalze.
The room we were meeting in had a dry erase board and someone attempted to draw a panda head but ended up with something that resembled Mickey Mouse. I tried to fix it buy giving the head a body with lettuce-like arms and legs. I also embellished by adding an eyepatch over one eye and a red, glowing cyborg eye for the other. I also named him Pierre Panda, the Cyborg Pirate King of Time Capsules.
Sadly, we won't be using Pierre in our book. He will, however, remain our unofficial group mascot. Now all we need is a fight song . . . written in French.
30 September 2011
Who is The Chicken Man?
I am such a good graduate student. I stay in and do homework late into Friday evenings (this is not the norm. I just have a super busy weekend ahead of me), and what happens when I look out my window for just a split-second?
Why, I spot the strangest vehicle I've ever seen driving down the road, of course!
It looked like a huge glass box on wheels and inside of this transparent cube was something. I couldn't really tell what it was because I was shocked and the box was far away and getting further away by the second, but I thought I saw someone inside. What I did see for certain was a big digital banner running along the outside of this moving glass house that read 617chicken.
617chicken?
I immediately recognized 617 as a Massachusetts area code and then realized that the word 'chicken' is consisted of seven letters. It wasn't 617chicken. It was (617) CHI-CKEN or (617) 244-2536! It was a phone number!
I thought that maybe this was a type of food truck that sells delicious chicken dishes and, having cash for once, I immediately called in the hopes of purchasing some sort of food from this mobile spectacle. Disappointment struck when I got an answering machine telling me that I had reached "the chicken man" and to "leave a message" so he could "get back".
I hung up.
Then I googled.
What I found was not informative whatsoever. There is a website (617chicken.com), but the links it provided did not explain a single thing. I checked the guy's Twitter account and found no enlightening information. The Facebook account was also a bust.
Who is the chicken man? Why is he driving around in a glass box? Are his websites and fan pages and twitter accounts in desperate need of updating or are they purposefully cryptic? Stay tuned!
Same chicken time! Same chicken channel!
I'm going to get to the bottom of this.
Why, I spot the strangest vehicle I've ever seen driving down the road, of course!
It looked like a huge glass box on wheels and inside of this transparent cube was something. I couldn't really tell what it was because I was shocked and the box was far away and getting further away by the second, but I thought I saw someone inside. What I did see for certain was a big digital banner running along the outside of this moving glass house that read 617chicken.
617chicken?
I immediately recognized 617 as a Massachusetts area code and then realized that the word 'chicken' is consisted of seven letters. It wasn't 617chicken. It was (617) CHI-CKEN or (617) 244-2536! It was a phone number!
I thought that maybe this was a type of food truck that sells delicious chicken dishes and, having cash for once, I immediately called in the hopes of purchasing some sort of food from this mobile spectacle. Disappointment struck when I got an answering machine telling me that I had reached "the chicken man" and to "leave a message" so he could "get back".
I hung up.
Then I googled.
What I found was not informative whatsoever. There is a website (617chicken.com), but the links it provided did not explain a single thing. I checked the guy's Twitter account and found no enlightening information. The Facebook account was also a bust.
Who is the chicken man? Why is he driving around in a glass box? Are his websites and fan pages and twitter accounts in desperate need of updating or are they purposefully cryptic? Stay tuned!
Same chicken time! Same chicken channel!
I'm going to get to the bottom of this.
29 September 2011
Day of Oddities
I had a very strange day earlier this week. I kept crossing paths with unusual people, reading shocking things, and coming across strange occurrences that had no plausible explanations. Here's the run down.
I got off a bus at Harvard Square. I began walking down the sidewalk to the T (AKA the subway) entrance when a thin, older man rolled up to the curb on a bike and stopped. He had a long white beard and wore cut-off jeans and an open jean vest over his bare chest. Not paying this man much attention, I kept walking. Then the man began yelling. "I am tired of being stopped by Harvard police! I do not want to be stopped by Harvard police! I do not respect your establishment!" I turned around and saw the man yelling at a large gate that led into Harvard campus. He kept yelling about he did not respect Harvard or their police force. I wanted to yell back that we, meaning the general public, did not appreciate or respect raging hippies. Sadly, my fear of being stabbed with a crack pipe kept me from voicing my rebuttal.
After getting off the T, I emerged from the underground. A woman was walking in front of me and we passed by two men who were sitting on the ground next to a fountain. One was playing a guitar but both of them were singing what sounded like improvised lyrics. One of them, the dirtier and uglier and non-guitar-playing one, leaned forward as the woman in front me walked by. He looked at her and told her she was beautiful and asked for her number. The woman didn't pay him any attention but I wanted to kick that S.O.B in the teeth.
Later, I was reading The New York Times in the library and found two articles that were very interesting, yet odd, nonetheless :
Article 1 : Circumcision is believed to reduce the risk of males contracting HIV by 60%. There is a huge effort in Africa for widespread circumcision of adult males to help with their HIV and AIDS problems. One way activists hope to do accomplish their goals of foreskin removal is via an inexpensive and simple medical device. This device is a rubber ring that is locked around the penis and pinches the foreskin so that it will eventually die and fall off. The article said it was relatively painless process, and I agree that reducing the spread of HIV and AIDS is important. But, boy, I have never been more thankful for my parents taking care of that for me when I was a baby. Watching a watch part of my penis slowly die, wither and dry out, and then fall off does not sound fun at all.
Article 2 : One major health issue in Africa is the improper disposal of human waste. If it is not disposed of properly, it can leak into water supplies or even be tracked around and find its way into human food, causing illness. To help combat this, one company has issued the PoopPee bag. Yep. You guessed it. These are baggies that people are supposed to poop and pee into. The best part though, is how the bag is lined with a certain chemical that turns the human waste into fertilizer! These bags, after being filled, are supposed to be tied shut and then mailed to the company which will then give them to PoopPee bag sellers who go door to door selling this "fertilizer". While this may help alleviate some health problems, I have no idea how this is a socially acceptable solution.
After reading all about home procedures for adult male circumcision and the usefulness of PoopPee bags, I went into the bathroom. I approached the urinal and found the floor surrounding it shimmering with urine. My mind was boggled. Missing the urinal is simply not an option. You piratically stand over the dumb thing! That much pee on the floor had to have been intentional. Perhaps, the culprit was angry about the fines the library charged him and exacted his revenge in their bathroom. That, or someone tried to use a PoopPee bag but it didn't work out so well.
Later that day, I was in the Boston Common when I spotted a shirtless, older man up ahead of me. He was just standing. And then he took a step forward, stumbled, and then fell backwards in the most graceful and amusing way I have ever seen. He stuck his arms out and one leg out and kind of sat down with a slight roll onto his back. It almost looked intentional, like modern dance or something. But then, as he sat on the ground, he put a tiny plastic cup behind him and tried to lean against it for support as if it were the back of a chair. Then he just got up and walked away, looking around and mumbling to no one in particular.
It was an odd day. I checked to see if there was a full moon. There wasn't. Apparently, this is common in larger East Coast cities. I am totally fine with that.
I got off a bus at Harvard Square. I began walking down the sidewalk to the T (AKA the subway) entrance when a thin, older man rolled up to the curb on a bike and stopped. He had a long white beard and wore cut-off jeans and an open jean vest over his bare chest. Not paying this man much attention, I kept walking. Then the man began yelling. "I am tired of being stopped by Harvard police! I do not want to be stopped by Harvard police! I do not respect your establishment!" I turned around and saw the man yelling at a large gate that led into Harvard campus. He kept yelling about he did not respect Harvard or their police force. I wanted to yell back that we, meaning the general public, did not appreciate or respect raging hippies. Sadly, my fear of being stabbed with a crack pipe kept me from voicing my rebuttal.
After getting off the T, I emerged from the underground. A woman was walking in front of me and we passed by two men who were sitting on the ground next to a fountain. One was playing a guitar but both of them were singing what sounded like improvised lyrics. One of them, the dirtier and uglier and non-guitar-playing one, leaned forward as the woman in front me walked by. He looked at her and told her she was beautiful and asked for her number. The woman didn't pay him any attention but I wanted to kick that S.O.B in the teeth.
Later, I was reading The New York Times in the library and found two articles that were very interesting, yet odd, nonetheless :
Article 1 : Circumcision is believed to reduce the risk of males contracting HIV by 60%. There is a huge effort in Africa for widespread circumcision of adult males to help with their HIV and AIDS problems. One way activists hope to do accomplish their goals of foreskin removal is via an inexpensive and simple medical device. This device is a rubber ring that is locked around the penis and pinches the foreskin so that it will eventually die and fall off. The article said it was relatively painless process, and I agree that reducing the spread of HIV and AIDS is important. But, boy, I have never been more thankful for my parents taking care of that for me when I was a baby. Watching a watch part of my penis slowly die, wither and dry out, and then fall off does not sound fun at all.
Article 2 : One major health issue in Africa is the improper disposal of human waste. If it is not disposed of properly, it can leak into water supplies or even be tracked around and find its way into human food, causing illness. To help combat this, one company has issued the PoopPee bag. Yep. You guessed it. These are baggies that people are supposed to poop and pee into. The best part though, is how the bag is lined with a certain chemical that turns the human waste into fertilizer! These bags, after being filled, are supposed to be tied shut and then mailed to the company which will then give them to PoopPee bag sellers who go door to door selling this "fertilizer". While this may help alleviate some health problems, I have no idea how this is a socially acceptable solution.
After reading all about home procedures for adult male circumcision and the usefulness of PoopPee bags, I went into the bathroom. I approached the urinal and found the floor surrounding it shimmering with urine. My mind was boggled. Missing the urinal is simply not an option. You piratically stand over the dumb thing! That much pee on the floor had to have been intentional. Perhaps, the culprit was angry about the fines the library charged him and exacted his revenge in their bathroom. That, or someone tried to use a PoopPee bag but it didn't work out so well.
Later that day, I was in the Boston Common when I spotted a shirtless, older man up ahead of me. He was just standing. And then he took a step forward, stumbled, and then fell backwards in the most graceful and amusing way I have ever seen. He stuck his arms out and one leg out and kind of sat down with a slight roll onto his back. It almost looked intentional, like modern dance or something. But then, as he sat on the ground, he put a tiny plastic cup behind him and tried to lean against it for support as if it were the back of a chair. Then he just got up and walked away, looking around and mumbling to no one in particular.
It was an odd day. I checked to see if there was a full moon. There wasn't. Apparently, this is common in larger East Coast cities. I am totally fine with that.
26 September 2011
Like a Girlfriend
For those of you who have been in official (Facebook or otherwise) relationships, you have probably experienced what I am about to describe. In the beginning of a relationship, the two involved parties become inseparable. They just can't get enough of each other. And while they may fulfill their individual and necessary responsibilities, they are prone to procrastinate such things as homework or chores in exchange of spending more time in each others' presence. They stay up late and get little sleep and are exhausted for days on end, but they regret nothing and it is all worth it.
Do you know that feeling? I hope you do.
One of my roommates has recently begun a new relationship and is experiencing such things. My best friend has also just started seeing someone and I suspect she will also fall into this scenario as well. I have also found myself entrapped in this time-consuming phenomena. Only, I don't have a girlfriend. I have an addiction to the hit reality series, Big Brother.
I am obsessed with this show and will soon apply to be a contestant. To prepare myself for the competition, I have embarked on a strict Big Brother regime. I have decided to study all 13 seasons to learn the ins and outs like the back of my hand, to analyze strategies and see what worked and what didn't, to understand every aspect of this show so I can win if I am one of the lucky few who are selected to compete next summer.
This means that I have been watching a lot of Big Brother lately. I have found myself staying up until after midnight, usually until 1:00 or 2:00 am, but most dramatically until 6:00 am. I have found myself feeling sluggish the following days, but it has all been worth it. I regret nothing. But if there was something I regret, it would be my limited amount of time I can study this most marvelous of all television programs.
So, in a sense, Big Brother is like my girlfriend. It takes up all my time and deprives me of sleep, yet leaves me satisfied and yearning for me. Another perk of my love for this show is that Big Brother doesn't require me to spend any money. I am free from the pressures of being spontaneous and surprising it with unexpected bouquets of flowers or cheesy love notes. Oh, and it always puts out . . . in the form of high-quality entertainment, that is.
Do you know that feeling? I hope you do.
One of my roommates has recently begun a new relationship and is experiencing such things. My best friend has also just started seeing someone and I suspect she will also fall into this scenario as well. I have also found myself entrapped in this time-consuming phenomena. Only, I don't have a girlfriend. I have an addiction to the hit reality series, Big Brother.
I am obsessed with this show and will soon apply to be a contestant. To prepare myself for the competition, I have embarked on a strict Big Brother regime. I have decided to study all 13 seasons to learn the ins and outs like the back of my hand, to analyze strategies and see what worked and what didn't, to understand every aspect of this show so I can win if I am one of the lucky few who are selected to compete next summer.
This means that I have been watching a lot of Big Brother lately. I have found myself staying up until after midnight, usually until 1:00 or 2:00 am, but most dramatically until 6:00 am. I have found myself feeling sluggish the following days, but it has all been worth it. I regret nothing. But if there was something I regret, it would be my limited amount of time I can study this most marvelous of all television programs.
So, in a sense, Big Brother is like my girlfriend. It takes up all my time and deprives me of sleep, yet leaves me satisfied and yearning for me. Another perk of my love for this show is that Big Brother doesn't require me to spend any money. I am free from the pressures of being spontaneous and surprising it with unexpected bouquets of flowers or cheesy love notes. Oh, and it always puts out . . . in the form of high-quality entertainment, that is.
24 September 2011
PORN REVIEWS
As I was rushing to catch my bus the other day, I looked down and saw a page from a newspaper all by its lonesome just laying on the sidewalk. I would have stepped right over it and gone on my way without a second thought, but something caught my attention. The big, bold title at the top of the page declaring -- "PORN REVIEWS" -- to be exact.
Porn Reviews? Do those things deserve being reviewed? Apparently, some people think they do.
Terrified at the potential of what could be said in such reviews, yet intrigued by the preposterous nature of it, I snatched up the paper, folded it, and put it in my cargo pocket for safe keeping. To be honest, I immediately thought this would give me something funny to blog about. Do you see, faithful readers, of how I am always looking out for you? I bet you, too, were unaware of such things as PORN REVIEWS. We shall live in darkness no longer!
There were three reviews : Supergirl XXX, The Sweetest Kiss, and Office Encounters.
I honestly had no idea what such a review would say. I imagined something along the lines of " . . . uh . . . yeah . . . sex . . . so hot . . ." I was wrong. While the reviews were not intelligent by any means, they were at least constructed with complete sentences. That is so much more credit than I would have given those perverts.
The biggest thing that struck me odd was that the reviewer complained about the lack of plotting and dialogue in The Sweetest Kiss and Office Encounters. As we all know, pornographic films are known for high quality dialogue and plotting. I can understand his disappointment. What?! It's a porno! What did the pervert expect? These movies are the lowest form of film and are aimed at doing one, single, disgusting, degrading, sickening thing. I'm sorry, porno review man, if you expected Office Encounters to have a woven web of plot arcs. I am equally sorry if you had been misled into purchasing The Sweetest Kiss because you thought it would be filled with witty, thought-provoking dialogue. I could see how you could have been misled by the classy titles and beautiful cover art on the DVD cases. You've been victimized! Do something about this! You go write an angry letter to Wicked Productions and Digital Sin Productions and let them know how short they have fallen of your high standards of erotic film!
Extreme Comixx, on the other and, which produced Supergirl XXX (directed by Sinister X and starring Sunny Lane and Buck Fuddy) is a much more credible film production company, that is if you can "see past the absurdity of a super suit with a super convenient fly." After all, it was "shot entirely in HD with intense close ups" and "could almost be mistaken for an instructional video" because of the "impressive displays of skills all around." The reviewer was very impressed with this "Collector's Edition 2 Disc Set [which] boasts over 8 hours of porn parody."
I will store these tidbits of information away for later use . . . when I want to feel violated or have a sudden desire to vomit.
Porn Reviews? Do those things deserve being reviewed? Apparently, some people think they do.
Terrified at the potential of what could be said in such reviews, yet intrigued by the preposterous nature of it, I snatched up the paper, folded it, and put it in my cargo pocket for safe keeping. To be honest, I immediately thought this would give me something funny to blog about. Do you see, faithful readers, of how I am always looking out for you? I bet you, too, were unaware of such things as PORN REVIEWS. We shall live in darkness no longer!
There were three reviews : Supergirl XXX, The Sweetest Kiss, and Office Encounters.
I honestly had no idea what such a review would say. I imagined something along the lines of " . . . uh . . . yeah . . . sex . . . so hot . . ." I was wrong. While the reviews were not intelligent by any means, they were at least constructed with complete sentences. That is so much more credit than I would have given those perverts.
The biggest thing that struck me odd was that the reviewer complained about the lack of plotting and dialogue in The Sweetest Kiss and Office Encounters. As we all know, pornographic films are known for high quality dialogue and plotting. I can understand his disappointment. What?! It's a porno! What did the pervert expect? These movies are the lowest form of film and are aimed at doing one, single, disgusting, degrading, sickening thing. I'm sorry, porno review man, if you expected Office Encounters to have a woven web of plot arcs. I am equally sorry if you had been misled into purchasing The Sweetest Kiss because you thought it would be filled with witty, thought-provoking dialogue. I could see how you could have been misled by the classy titles and beautiful cover art on the DVD cases. You've been victimized! Do something about this! You go write an angry letter to Wicked Productions and Digital Sin Productions and let them know how short they have fallen of your high standards of erotic film!
Extreme Comixx, on the other and, which produced Supergirl XXX (directed by Sinister X and starring Sunny Lane and Buck Fuddy) is a much more credible film production company, that is if you can "see past the absurdity of a super suit with a super convenient fly." After all, it was "shot entirely in HD with intense close ups" and "could almost be mistaken for an instructional video" because of the "impressive displays of skills all around." The reviewer was very impressed with this "Collector's Edition 2 Disc Set [which] boasts over 8 hours of porn parody."
I will store these tidbits of information away for later use . . . when I want to feel violated or have a sudden desire to vomit.
21 September 2011
The Trouble with Time Capsules
Isn't it about time that I actually wrote something about my graduate career? For those of you who have been waiting for such scholarly content, your time for satisfaction has finally arrived!
One of my classes is titled : Book Publishing Overview. I love it. Or, rather, I loved the first two weeks of it. Things are starting to get a little hectic, and it's only three weeks into the semester.
For this class, we have one huge project that we will be working on during the entire semester. Essentially, we will be creating a book and going through all of the necessary steps to get it published (theoretically, of course). This entails : writing a summary of the book, writing a three to five page discussion of the book's content and rationale, creating a description of the intended audience, finding an author for the book and writing an author biography, creating an annotated table of contents of the book, and charting comparable and competing books in the past and present marketplace. Oh, but all that is just the stuff that's due within the next two weeks! The list goes on and on from everything to figuring out the costs and revenue, creating sample pages, determining specific production qualifications, creating the cover, laying out a publishing schedule, designing a marketing plan . . . it just doesn't stop.
Luckily, I am in a group of very dedicated, intelligent people. I know I can rely on them to get their work done and to do it well. Unfortunately, we see things a little differently. We have hit an early snag in our project -- figuring out what the book is going to be about.
Last week, we were given a list of vague topics. My group chose -- Time Capsules.
My initial reaction was to create a humor book -- something along the lines of what the time capsules of iconic families/individuals would include. For example, The Addams family would put Thing into their time capsule (which would be shaped like a coffin) and Marilyn Monroe would put in a used condom from one of her liaisons with JFK. The entire book would be illustrated, showing the famous family/individual and the items inside of their time capsules. I imagine satire and snide comments galore. I imagine hilarity abound. I did not, however, imagine the hesitation of my groupies.
While my groupies were intrigued by the concept, they were not sold. They were worried about marketability and such. Who would buy this book? Well, I answered, the same people who buy other humor books. How many of these could we actually sell? I responded that none of these books were best sellers, but we could still probably do pretty well.
What my groupies envisioned was a how-to book geared towards families with children.
My only problems with that idea is that A) It's so much more boring than my idea, and B) I don't know what else we would put in the book other than something along the lines of "Find a box. Put in stuff that's important to you. Now, bury it." What else is there to say about how to make a time capsule? Don't ask me.
We have yet to settle on either topic. For now, we are each brainstorming concrete ideas of what the content for either book would include. The most important thing we can decide is what direction we will be going with this project. I really hope my fun, funnest, funnerest idea pulls through, but it might be a hard sell. I have to come up with a lot of great, hilarious ideas to include in this humor book and hope I can convince my groupies of the potential greatness inherent in my idea.
I have a lot or work to do.
One of my classes is titled : Book Publishing Overview. I love it. Or, rather, I loved the first two weeks of it. Things are starting to get a little hectic, and it's only three weeks into the semester.
For this class, we have one huge project that we will be working on during the entire semester. Essentially, we will be creating a book and going through all of the necessary steps to get it published (theoretically, of course). This entails : writing a summary of the book, writing a three to five page discussion of the book's content and rationale, creating a description of the intended audience, finding an author for the book and writing an author biography, creating an annotated table of contents of the book, and charting comparable and competing books in the past and present marketplace. Oh, but all that is just the stuff that's due within the next two weeks! The list goes on and on from everything to figuring out the costs and revenue, creating sample pages, determining specific production qualifications, creating the cover, laying out a publishing schedule, designing a marketing plan . . . it just doesn't stop.
Luckily, I am in a group of very dedicated, intelligent people. I know I can rely on them to get their work done and to do it well. Unfortunately, we see things a little differently. We have hit an early snag in our project -- figuring out what the book is going to be about.
Last week, we were given a list of vague topics. My group chose -- Time Capsules.
My initial reaction was to create a humor book -- something along the lines of what the time capsules of iconic families/individuals would include. For example, The Addams family would put Thing into their time capsule (which would be shaped like a coffin) and Marilyn Monroe would put in a used condom from one of her liaisons with JFK. The entire book would be illustrated, showing the famous family/individual and the items inside of their time capsules. I imagine satire and snide comments galore. I imagine hilarity abound. I did not, however, imagine the hesitation of my groupies.
While my groupies were intrigued by the concept, they were not sold. They were worried about marketability and such. Who would buy this book? Well, I answered, the same people who buy other humor books. How many of these could we actually sell? I responded that none of these books were best sellers, but we could still probably do pretty well.
What my groupies envisioned was a how-to book geared towards families with children.
My only problems with that idea is that A) It's so much more boring than my idea, and B) I don't know what else we would put in the book other than something along the lines of "Find a box. Put in stuff that's important to you. Now, bury it." What else is there to say about how to make a time capsule? Don't ask me.
We have yet to settle on either topic. For now, we are each brainstorming concrete ideas of what the content for either book would include. The most important thing we can decide is what direction we will be going with this project. I really hope my fun, funnest, funnerest idea pulls through, but it might be a hard sell. I have to come up with a lot of great, hilarious ideas to include in this humor book and hope I can convince my groupies of the potential greatness inherent in my idea.
I have a lot or work to do.
20 September 2011
The Mysterious Basement Unit
In the Boston area, it seems that most apartments were originally houses that are now cut up and divided into several units. The building in which I live is no exception. The original house has been cut into three apartment units - the basement, the main floor, and the upper two floors.
I live in the apartment in the upper two floors.
If one was to enter the back door of the house, one would step into a hallway that leads to all three apartment units. If one would turn right and go up the stairs, one would enter my apartment. If one was to go forward, once would enter the ground floor unit. And if one was to move down the hall and then down the stairs into the basement, one would enter the laundry room and be able to access the basement apartment. All of these apartments have lockable doors to prohibit anyone from just walking in through the back.
As for the basement unit, it does not take up the entire basement. A large portion of it is the "laundry room" . . . which is really just one washer and one dryer in a large, unfinished room that doubles as storage for all three units.
I have yet to meet the people living in either of the other two units. My roommates have met the people who live on the main floor. They are a married gay couple and I have been told that they are very nice. The basement tenants, however, are a mystery to all.
The other day, I was in the basement doing my laundry when I heard strange noises coming from the basement apartment unit. It sounded like something you would hear in an insane asylum. It was a groaning or a grunting or some strange combination. Whatever it was, it was creepy.
Another day, I heard a baby crying for about five seconds. Then it stopped and all was silent.
And then I realized that we never lock the door that leads to the back stairwell, which leads to the laundry room, which is connected to the basement unit whose tenants we have never met and from whence these strange noises have been coming.
How comforting.
But as none of us has been butchered in our beds, I think we'll be safe. Besides, I kind of like the danger. I'll just sleep with a baseball bat in my bed.
I live in the apartment in the upper two floors.
If one was to enter the back door of the house, one would step into a hallway that leads to all three apartment units. If one would turn right and go up the stairs, one would enter my apartment. If one was to go forward, once would enter the ground floor unit. And if one was to move down the hall and then down the stairs into the basement, one would enter the laundry room and be able to access the basement apartment. All of these apartments have lockable doors to prohibit anyone from just walking in through the back.
As for the basement unit, it does not take up the entire basement. A large portion of it is the "laundry room" . . . which is really just one washer and one dryer in a large, unfinished room that doubles as storage for all three units.
I have yet to meet the people living in either of the other two units. My roommates have met the people who live on the main floor. They are a married gay couple and I have been told that they are very nice. The basement tenants, however, are a mystery to all.
The other day, I was in the basement doing my laundry when I heard strange noises coming from the basement apartment unit. It sounded like something you would hear in an insane asylum. It was a groaning or a grunting or some strange combination. Whatever it was, it was creepy.
Another day, I heard a baby crying for about five seconds. Then it stopped and all was silent.
And then I realized that we never lock the door that leads to the back stairwell, which leads to the laundry room, which is connected to the basement unit whose tenants we have never met and from whence these strange noises have been coming.
How comforting.
But as none of us has been butchered in our beds, I think we'll be safe. Besides, I kind of like the danger. I'll just sleep with a baseball bat in my bed.
15 September 2011
Search Results
Blogger, the website that powers this blog, is awesome. It tracks certain statistics and conveniently displays them for me on my administrator page. One statistic they track is how people come across my blog. They divide this into referring sites, such as Facebook (find and like me on Facebook if you haven't already. And don't feel shy about referring me to your friends), and Google search results. The statistics about these search results have been very entertaining. They tell me how often someone has found my blog due to specific search results. For example, I know that 43 different people have found my blog by typing in "my worthless degree" in the Google search bar and clicking on the link that referred my blog. But that is the least interesting search result by which people have come across My Worthless Degree.
Here are some of my favorites (my reactions) and the corresponding blog entries (they are links, so feel free to click and read if you so desire) :
- cleavage baby (I don't even want to know) Thank You, Horrid Cleavage Baby
- "most of the balloons" (Is someone in clown school writing a historical report on balloons? The use of balloons as renewable energy sources? A suspected balloon uprising? I didn't realize clown school was so legitimately academic.) The 3 Stages of a Balloon's Life
- all aboard the ass train (Huh. I guess that phrase isn't as original as I thought.) All Aboard the Ass Train
- beard net sale (That's just silly. Who needs that many beard nets?) Choking Velociraptors, Beard Nets, and Phantom Limb -- Oh, My!
- how to help a diabetic druggie (Shoot 'em in the face.) Diabetic or Druggie?
- pics of sexy lesbians dressed as fairies (Nerds! What? They searched for this between quests on World of Warcraft?) Glitter Dragons and Sexy (Sometimes Lesbian) Fairies
- nostril man (I like the images this creates in my mind.) Justin Bieber's Angry Twin, Hairy Nostril Man, and The Completely Inappropriate Guy
- velociraptors eating ice-cream (What flavor or ice-cream. Terrified human and caramel swirl?) Choking Velociraptors, Beard Nets, and Phantom Limb -- Oh, My!
- bulliten board worm template (What does that even mean?) possibly Co-Worker Freak Show
- t-rex hates pushups (I do, too. Maybe if a T-rex is ever trying to eat me, I can distract him by bringing up our mutual dislike of pushups.) Co-Worker Freak Show
- facts about bragging (Fact #1 : Bragging is a good way to make people hate you.) Shameful Facts VS Bragging Rights
- does biglots sell microwaves (I've never been to a Big Lots and I'm okay with that.) possibly Ancient Loans
There was also a "referring site" that concerned me. It was http://pornfreetube.ru/. I feel so cheap and violated.
Here are some of my favorites (my reactions) and the corresponding blog entries (they are links, so feel free to click and read if you so desire) :
- cleavage baby (I don't even want to know) Thank You, Horrid Cleavage Baby
- "most of the balloons" (Is someone in clown school writing a historical report on balloons? The use of balloons as renewable energy sources? A suspected balloon uprising? I didn't realize clown school was so legitimately academic.) The 3 Stages of a Balloon's Life
- all aboard the ass train (Huh. I guess that phrase isn't as original as I thought.) All Aboard the Ass Train
- beard net sale (That's just silly. Who needs that many beard nets?) Choking Velociraptors, Beard Nets, and Phantom Limb -- Oh, My!
- how to help a diabetic druggie (Shoot 'em in the face.) Diabetic or Druggie?
- pics of sexy lesbians dressed as fairies (Nerds! What? They searched for this between quests on World of Warcraft?) Glitter Dragons and Sexy (Sometimes Lesbian) Fairies
- nostril man (I like the images this creates in my mind.) Justin Bieber's Angry Twin, Hairy Nostril Man, and The Completely Inappropriate Guy
- velociraptors eating ice-cream (What flavor or ice-cream. Terrified human and caramel swirl?) Choking Velociraptors, Beard Nets, and Phantom Limb -- Oh, My!
- bulliten board worm template (What does that even mean?) possibly Co-Worker Freak Show
- t-rex hates pushups (I do, too. Maybe if a T-rex is ever trying to eat me, I can distract him by bringing up our mutual dislike of pushups.) Co-Worker Freak Show
- facts about bragging (Fact #1 : Bragging is a good way to make people hate you.) Shameful Facts VS Bragging Rights
- does biglots sell microwaves (I've never been to a Big Lots and I'm okay with that.) possibly Ancient Loans
There was also a "referring site" that concerned me. It was http://pornfreetube.ru/. I feel so cheap and violated.
13 September 2011
When Pigeons Attack
I have spent some time around the Boston Common (a large park in the heart of downtown Boston) lately, and boy are there a lot of pigeons. I suppose every large city has a problem with them, but I've never lived in a big city before, so these everyday encounters with these winged rats are new to me.
Tonight, I would like to share two stories involving pigeons.
Pigeon Story #1 :
I was walking along, minding my own business when I heard a scream. I turned and saw a woman on her cellphone sitting in the Boston Common as a large number of pigeons darted past her on either side, most of them flying very closely. They weren't actually attacking her, but with the way she screamed, you might have thought they were. She covered her head and ducked down low and turned to look as the frenzied birds flew overhead. I saw a dropping fall. Sadly, it didn't hit the girl.
Pigeon Story #2 :
The other day, I bought myself some baked goods--a cherry cupcake with a lot of frosting and a blueberry muffin, to be exact. The weather was pleasant, and I decided to leave the confines of the library and enjoy my unhealthy snack in the Boston Common. I sat on a low retaining wall, not too far from a woman who was enjoying McDonald's french fries and also not very far from about seventy-five pigeons hopping around in the grass behind me.
The french fry-eating woman made the mistake of throwing a french fry into the grass for the pigeons to enjoy. They attacked, piling over each other and tearing at it with their beaks until it had completely disappeared. Then they noticed the remainder of the woman's fries poured out onto a napkin in her lap. A few of the pigeons stupidly hopped over and tried to get at her fries. The woman was not pleased. She started screaming at the pigeons "LEAVE ME ALONE! GO! LEAVE ME ALONE!"
Most of them obeyed and abandoned their fry hijacking, but a few of them retreated only to double back to make a second attempt. The woman began screaming as loud as she could, this time I think it was in another language--either French or Wino--and thrashed her arms about to defend her precious fried potato sticks, making a complete spectacle of herself.
I felt horrible. Not for her, but because I didn't have my camera on me.
Tonight, I would like to share two stories involving pigeons.
Pigeon Story #1 :
I was walking along, minding my own business when I heard a scream. I turned and saw a woman on her cellphone sitting in the Boston Common as a large number of pigeons darted past her on either side, most of them flying very closely. They weren't actually attacking her, but with the way she screamed, you might have thought they were. She covered her head and ducked down low and turned to look as the frenzied birds flew overhead. I saw a dropping fall. Sadly, it didn't hit the girl.
Pigeon Story #2 :
The other day, I bought myself some baked goods--a cherry cupcake with a lot of frosting and a blueberry muffin, to be exact. The weather was pleasant, and I decided to leave the confines of the library and enjoy my unhealthy snack in the Boston Common. I sat on a low retaining wall, not too far from a woman who was enjoying McDonald's french fries and also not very far from about seventy-five pigeons hopping around in the grass behind me.
The french fry-eating woman made the mistake of throwing a french fry into the grass for the pigeons to enjoy. They attacked, piling over each other and tearing at it with their beaks until it had completely disappeared. Then they noticed the remainder of the woman's fries poured out onto a napkin in her lap. A few of the pigeons stupidly hopped over and tried to get at her fries. The woman was not pleased. She started screaming at the pigeons "LEAVE ME ALONE! GO! LEAVE ME ALONE!"
Most of them obeyed and abandoned their fry hijacking, but a few of them retreated only to double back to make a second attempt. The woman began screaming as loud as she could, this time I think it was in another language--either French or Wino--and thrashed her arms about to defend her precious fried potato sticks, making a complete spectacle of herself.
I felt horrible. Not for her, but because I didn't have my camera on me.
12 September 2011
Cheap Chicken
I am a fan of chicken. Not chickens, as in the animals--but chicken, as in the meat. It is oh, so tastey and can be prepared in many delicious ways. Chicken alfredo . . . chicken enchiladas . . . chicken cordon bleu . . . grilled chicken breasts . . . . . . Shake and Bake . . . the list joyously goes on and on!
One of the toughest things that I had to deal with after moving to the Boston area was the increase in the price of food. Where I was from, boneless chicken breasts were easily found at under $2.00/pound. Here, the closest grocery store was selling their boneless chicken breasts at $5.00/pound! I almost fainted in the aisle!
I grumbled my way away from the outrageously priced poultry and sought out other stores with more moderate chicken prices. The only other place I found was an Asian market which was selling their boneless chicken breasts at the low, low price of $2.49/pound. The sad thing was that I couldn't be sure if it was safe to eat or not. Using the cleanliness of the store and the visual quality of the packaging of the meat, I decided it would be in my best interest to pass.
I had resigned to the fact that I might never be able to each meat in this expensive town. A few days after I allowed myself to sink to this pit of despair, I saw a grocery ad. Boneless chicken breasts for $1.99/pound?! I rearranged my schedule and went to the store as soon as I possibly could and bought 13 pounds of that discounted goodness. I would have gotten more if I didn't share a freezer with four other grown men. 13 pounds should last me a few weeks. I will have to use it sparingly and keep my eye on those ads with an unfailing hope that meat will once again fit into my meager, graduate student budget.
But for now, I will rejoice. I bought Hot N Spicy Shake and Bake the other day and I know how to use it.
One of the toughest things that I had to deal with after moving to the Boston area was the increase in the price of food. Where I was from, boneless chicken breasts were easily found at under $2.00/pound. Here, the closest grocery store was selling their boneless chicken breasts at $5.00/pound! I almost fainted in the aisle!
I grumbled my way away from the outrageously priced poultry and sought out other stores with more moderate chicken prices. The only other place I found was an Asian market which was selling their boneless chicken breasts at the low, low price of $2.49/pound. The sad thing was that I couldn't be sure if it was safe to eat or not. Using the cleanliness of the store and the visual quality of the packaging of the meat, I decided it would be in my best interest to pass.
I had resigned to the fact that I might never be able to each meat in this expensive town. A few days after I allowed myself to sink to this pit of despair, I saw a grocery ad. Boneless chicken breasts for $1.99/pound?! I rearranged my schedule and went to the store as soon as I possibly could and bought 13 pounds of that discounted goodness. I would have gotten more if I didn't share a freezer with four other grown men. 13 pounds should last me a few weeks. I will have to use it sparingly and keep my eye on those ads with an unfailing hope that meat will once again fit into my meager, graduate student budget.
But for now, I will rejoice. I bought Hot N Spicy Shake and Bake the other day and I know how to use it.
07 September 2011
My Bitch
My graduate career has officially begun, and, unsurprisingly, my anxiety level has skyrocketed. The first week of classes has come and gone for me, and I am already freaking out.
Can I really do this whole graduate school thing? Will I have enough time to do all of my homework? Will I be smart enough? Will I be smart enough to develop professional connections that will benefit me in finding a career? What internships should I try to get? Am I ruining my life?
Am I being overdramatic? Not really. Graduate school has been a dream of mine for a long time and I am in a program that offers me everything I could possibly want--in terms of study, practical experience, and opportunities to make professional connections. I need to take this seriously. I just think these first couple of weeks will be difficult until I develop and settle into a routine. I like routines. They help me know what to expect, and if I know what to expect, I can plan for it weeks in advance and rock its world.
It also doesn't help that I don't know this city, haven't developed many strong friendships with anyone, haven't found a gym I like, am not used to the higher price of food (meat especially--boneless chicken breasts for $5.99/pound?! Are you kidding me?!), don't have a job and have this horrible feeling of dread regarding my finances, have been out of school for a year, and no longer have a car. Oh, I almost forgot to mention that I'm a spaz. That sure doesn't help.
In the long run, I know I'll be fine. I think it's healthy to freak out at the beginning of one's graduate career, to just get it all out and then move on. And now that that's out of the way, I'm ready to make this program my bitch.
Can I really do this whole graduate school thing? Will I have enough time to do all of my homework? Will I be smart enough? Will I be smart enough to develop professional connections that will benefit me in finding a career? What internships should I try to get? Am I ruining my life?
Am I being overdramatic? Not really. Graduate school has been a dream of mine for a long time and I am in a program that offers me everything I could possibly want--in terms of study, practical experience, and opportunities to make professional connections. I need to take this seriously. I just think these first couple of weeks will be difficult until I develop and settle into a routine. I like routines. They help me know what to expect, and if I know what to expect, I can plan for it weeks in advance and rock its world.
It also doesn't help that I don't know this city, haven't developed many strong friendships with anyone, haven't found a gym I like, am not used to the higher price of food (meat especially--boneless chicken breasts for $5.99/pound?! Are you kidding me?!), don't have a job and have this horrible feeling of dread regarding my finances, have been out of school for a year, and no longer have a car. Oh, I almost forgot to mention that I'm a spaz. That sure doesn't help.
In the long run, I know I'll be fine. I think it's healthy to freak out at the beginning of one's graduate career, to just get it all out and then move on. And now that that's out of the way, I'm ready to make this program my bitch.
06 September 2011
Summer Goal Evaluation
It is a sad day when summer ends. Summer, for me, always means fun, and as I venture out into the new school year (and graduate career), I must look back and reflect upon my summer.
I had set a series of summer goals to complete. Let's see how I did.
1) Complete and begin editing a rough draft of "When Grandad Came Back" -- I meant for this to be a short story, but I should have known better. It's over 40 pages and has no end in sight. I could have finsihed a draft if I hadn't been so lazy, but, eh. It was summer.
2) Read Dracula by Bram Stoker -- X -- (see Things You Should Know About Dracula)
3) Read Cloud Atlas by David Mitchell -- X -- This book is amazing. If you don't know who David Mitchell is, you should hang your head in shame. All I really need to say is "literary multiple-orgasm".
4) Beat The Legend of Zelda : Twilight Princess -- X
5) Beat Paper Mario : The Thousand Year Door -- This is one long, freaking game. I'm 3/7ths done.
6) Beat Legend of Legaia -- I'm really not ashamed that I didn't accomplish my video gaming summer goals. I'm actually kind of proud of that.
7) Make a painting -- X -- (see My "Painting")
8) Make a wall hanging of a woman's torso -- X -- (see Frida)
9) Bike 3 times a week with increasing milages (weather permitting) in addition to going to the gym 3 times a week -- X -- I could have biked a little bit more, but I think I did really good.
10) Go to ValleyFair -- X -- (see The Sunscreen/Eyeball Incident)
11) Finish making my Seether shirt -- X -- Sadly, I didn't like how it turned out, and I'm not going to post a picture of my failure. Let's just forget this ever happened.
12) Make one meal I've never cooked before each week -- X -- I actually missed cooking one week, but I cooked two new meals at the begining of the summer, so I think it evens itself out and I can consider this goal accomplished (see Sushi = Difficult).
13) Watch two movies a week -- FAIL? -- I am actually not sure about this goal. I was at least really close. The movies I watched included, but may not be limited to, The Ring, The Devil's Playground, Unstoppable, True Grit, Mission Impossible III, War of the Worlds, X-men : First Class, Rise of the Planet of the Apes, and Momento.
14) Go out and do more photography -- X -- (see The People of Central Park, Lost in a Cemetary, Summer Smut, Demolition Derbies are Awesome, and The Unintentionally Scary Museum)
15) Hunt for a new job -- X -- This goal was actually abandoned (see About This Whole Job Thing)
I had set a series of summer goals to complete. Let's see how I did.
*
1) Complete and begin editing a rough draft of "When Grandad Came Back" -- I meant for this to be a short story, but I should have known better. It's over 40 pages and has no end in sight. I could have finsihed a draft if I hadn't been so lazy, but, eh. It was summer.
2) Read Dracula by Bram Stoker -- X -- (see Things You Should Know About Dracula)
3) Read Cloud Atlas by David Mitchell -- X -- This book is amazing. If you don't know who David Mitchell is, you should hang your head in shame. All I really need to say is "literary multiple-orgasm".
4) Beat The Legend of Zelda : Twilight Princess -- X
5) Beat Paper Mario : The Thousand Year Door -- This is one long, freaking game. I'm 3/7ths done.
6) Beat Legend of Legaia -- I'm really not ashamed that I didn't accomplish my video gaming summer goals. I'm actually kind of proud of that.
7) Make a painting -- X -- (see My "Painting")
8) Make a wall hanging of a woman's torso -- X -- (see Frida)
9) Bike 3 times a week with increasing milages (weather permitting) in addition to going to the gym 3 times a week -- X -- I could have biked a little bit more, but I think I did really good.
10) Go to ValleyFair -- X -- (see The Sunscreen/Eyeball Incident)
11) Finish making my Seether shirt -- X -- Sadly, I didn't like how it turned out, and I'm not going to post a picture of my failure. Let's just forget this ever happened.
12) Make one meal I've never cooked before each week -- X -- I actually missed cooking one week, but I cooked two new meals at the begining of the summer, so I think it evens itself out and I can consider this goal accomplished (see Sushi = Difficult).
13) Watch two movies a week -- FAIL? -- I am actually not sure about this goal. I was at least really close. The movies I watched included, but may not be limited to, The Ring, The Devil's Playground, Unstoppable, True Grit, Mission Impossible III, War of the Worlds, X-men : First Class, Rise of the Planet of the Apes, and Momento.
14) Go out and do more photography -- X -- (see The People of Central Park, Lost in a Cemetary, Summer Smut, Demolition Derbies are Awesome, and The Unintentionally Scary Museum)
15) Hunt for a new job -- X -- This goal was actually abandoned (see About This Whole Job Thing)
*
I think 10 out of 14 is pretty good, especially when the unaccomplished goals involve playing video games and watching movies. Not included in this list of goals was spending a whole week with my BFF, my new TV addiction AKA Big Brother, moving to Boston, making new friends and developing a social life, and going to New York City for a weekend (among other things). It has been a great summer and I did a lot of fun things. So, for now, I bid thee farewell, summer. You will be in my thoughts, heart, and dreams until we meet again.
04 September 2011
The People of Central Park
It's a crazy life when someone asks you if you want to go on an impromptu weekend visit to New York City and you can say "yes". I've only been to The Big Apple once and was very excited to go back to that amazing metropolitan wonderland.
We did a lot of things while in New York, but favorite was walking around Central Park. I spent about two hours just roaming around aimlessly, and I am very thankful that I did. The park is enormous and has all kinds of hidden treasures waiting to be stumbled upon. It has everything from a castle to an ancient obelisk to baseball diamonds and even a zoo, but we musn't forget the true stars of Central Park--the people.
We did a lot of things while in New York, but favorite was walking around Central Park. I spent about two hours just roaming around aimlessly, and I am very thankful that I did. The park is enormous and has all kinds of hidden treasures waiting to be stumbled upon. It has everything from a castle to an ancient obelisk to baseball diamonds and even a zoo, but we musn't forget the true stars of Central Park--the people.
I am no student of classical music, but these musicians were awesome. They chose the perfect place to play. The acoustics were amazing.
You got to love the performers. I have an urge to try and do something ridiculous in Central Park to see how much money I can get. I just have to think of something totally outrageous.
I was hoping she would climb all the way to the top of the arch. She didn't. What a loser. I hope her mother punished her laziness.
The park was crawling with adorable children. I don't think these children knew each other, but the girl wanted to go to the top of the rocks with the boy but the boy said it wasn't safe. They were so matter-of-factly in their discussion.
At one point, I heard music. I zombie walked towards it--muuuuuusssic--and found this! A skating/dancing club! These people get together in central park on a regular basis, block off an area, and then skate/dance to house music for several hours. This guy was ridiculous. He was working his shoulders like nobody's business.
The most impressive skater/dancer was this massively ripped man who had the balancing powers of a classicaly-trained 18th-century woman.
Some other people in the group included a man with some kind of bouncy shoes (in the background) and a woman who was just shaking her hips and waving around a stick. Here she looks like she's screaming. I think she got a splinter. There was also a man (not pictured) who winked at me. That was when I decided to leave.
And even though I did not find him/her, I did find evidence of The Very Hungry Caterpillar having recently been in Central Park. This was the closest to seeing a celebrity that I came.
There are two others I must mention in this blog. The first was actually a group of elderly people who were kicking around a soccer ball. I didn't take a picture of them because I was so shocked that all I could do was watch and pray that they didn't hurt themselves. The second was a woman who wasn't in central park. I was struggling my way through the overwhelming crowds and stood next to a woman pushing a stroller. She was on her cellphone and when we started to cross the street, she said "What makes you think I'm getting liposuction?"
Ah, what a weekend. If you scroll further down, you may enjoy a few other non-people-related pictures.
01 September 2011
The Ups and Downs of Orientation
DOWN : Getting up at 6:00 am
UP : Breakfast burrito
DOWN : The trip to campus -- The bus was late -- The T (Boston's subway system) was supposed to be rerouted, but then the reroute was cancelled--which is a good thing, but also a bad thing since it was confusing -- I realized I forgot to figure out which subway stop I need to get off at -- I got off at the wrong stop -- When I arrived at the place where the orientation e-mail told me to be, the lights were off, the door was locked, and it was clearly the wrong location.
UP : I wasn't the only ill-informed fool. Two other new graduate students were in the same boat. One of them had a smart phone and was able to find the real location of the opening meeting for the orientation and we arrived just in time.
DOWN : Sitting through countless orientation speakers
UP : Informative campus tour
DOWN : Taking the campus tour and having to wade through droves and droves of freshmen
UP : Free lunch with interesting people
DOWN : The painstaking task of opening a new bank account
UP : FIRE ALARM (see picture on the right)
DOWN : No actual fire
UP : More mingling and free food
DOWN : I had to leave the mixer before they handed out the raffle prizes
UP : Informative session about becoming involved in a graduate literary magazine
DOWN : I look like I have Down's Syndrome in my college photo ID
Overall, I would say that the UP outweighed the DOWN in a big way. I am so excited for my classes and the things I will learn, internships, readings, becoming involved in activities and organizations, and countless other things. That said, my excitement has not coaxed me into rushing summer on its way out. I want it to stick around for as long as possible. The school year, as amazing as it will be, will come with all of its fun and stress and overwhelming responsibilities soon enough.
UP : Breakfast burrito
DOWN : The trip to campus -- The bus was late -- The T (Boston's subway system) was supposed to be rerouted, but then the reroute was cancelled--which is a good thing, but also a bad thing since it was confusing -- I realized I forgot to figure out which subway stop I need to get off at -- I got off at the wrong stop -- When I arrived at the place where the orientation e-mail told me to be, the lights were off, the door was locked, and it was clearly the wrong location.
UP : I wasn't the only ill-informed fool. Two other new graduate students were in the same boat. One of them had a smart phone and was able to find the real location of the opening meeting for the orientation and we arrived just in time.
DOWN : Sitting through countless orientation speakers
UP : Informative campus tour
DOWN : Taking the campus tour and having to wade through droves and droves of freshmenUP : Free lunch with interesting people
DOWN : The painstaking task of opening a new bank account
UP : FIRE ALARM (see picture on the right)
DOWN : No actual fire
UP : More mingling and free food
DOWN : I had to leave the mixer before they handed out the raffle prizes
UP : Informative session about becoming involved in a graduate literary magazine
DOWN : I look like I have Down's Syndrome in my college photo ID
Overall, I would say that the UP outweighed the DOWN in a big way. I am so excited for my classes and the things I will learn, internships, readings, becoming involved in activities and organizations, and countless other things. That said, my excitement has not coaxed me into rushing summer on its way out. I want it to stick around for as long as possible. The school year, as amazing as it will be, will come with all of its fun and stress and overwhelming responsibilities soon enough.
29 August 2011
Lost in a Cemetery
A new friend of mine told me something interesting. It was about a tower inside of a cemetery that overlooks the city. The coolest part is that this tower is open for the public to climb and enjoy the view. This morning, I set out on my bicycle to find this cemetery and its tower.
Finding the cemetery was fairly easy. Finding the tower was another story. This cemetery is enormous. It lays on over 175 acres and I actually got lost. I thought I could just look around and see the tower, but the many, many tall trees stopped my life from being so simple. I found a map of the cemetery and tried to remember which way to go, but that didn't work so well since I have a horrible memory. Eventually, I asked an older couple that was sitting in their car if they knew how to find the tower. I felt horrible for interrupting their cemetery experience, which was probably a solemn one, but I was losing my patience. Luckily, being lost in the cemetery wasn't too bad of a thing. I came across several things to photograph.
I found a tombstone that had dead, dying, and thriving vines all over it. I thought they looked awesome.
The cemetery had its own greenhouses and this disgusting thing collected rainwater for later watering. How eco-friendly.
This was in the entry to some building (this place had lots of them). I thought how the light highlighted the chair in the shadows was pretty cool.
I found this grate and this red leaf stuck in some cobwebs.
These flowers were already knocked over when I found them. I swear. I didn't do it.
There was this whole section of cemetery that was being reseeded with grass. At the moment, it's just dirt, headstones, and awesome looking.
After wandering around for what felt like hours and being told by multiple employees that I was not supposed to have my bike on the cemetery grounds (and even being given a flier on "Cemetery Etiquette" by a man in a minivan), I found the tower. A plaque told me that it was built in the 1850's. The view was pretty spectacular. The area has a lot more trees than I expected, but we've all seen trees, so I won't bother posting them here. What was really cool was the view of downtown Boston that the tower offered (see below).
28 August 2011
About This Whole Job Thing . . .
I had every intention of finding a job once I had moved to the Boston area. I'm very nervous/meticulous/obsessive/successful(?) when it comes to my finances, and the biggest concern I had was about whether or not I would be able to financially support myself. I foresaw myself filling out countless applications, sending out numberless resumes, and not resting until I had secured some type of employment. But has any of that happened? No. And is any of that going to happen? Not at least until the school year starts up. Here's my new plan . . .
Rather than immediately getting another dead end job that will not provide me with anything impressive to put on my resume, why not wait until I have access to the resources which my college offers? I can seek out internships and jobs through the connections it has with the local publishing community and, subsequently, obtain worthwhile experience.
I have an inkling that all of the fall internships will have already be taken, but that's not so terrible. I can focus on securing one for next semester. And if I desperately need employment, I can always find something along the way.
I think my reasoning is good, and I will insist that this is what has influenced my decision the most. But, just between you and me, faithful reader, there are other, and equally influential, reasons. These include :
1) It's summer and summer is for fun, not working
2) I'm lazy
3) I don't want to work
4) I took out enough student loans that I don't have to work
5) There are too many things to do in this city
6) My social life is suddenly four times what it used to be
So, with that, I gladly cross off Summer Goal #15 -- Hunt for a new job. Not because I completed it, but because I have abandoned it. It's a great feeling.
Rather than immediately getting another dead end job that will not provide me with anything impressive to put on my resume, why not wait until I have access to the resources which my college offers? I can seek out internships and jobs through the connections it has with the local publishing community and, subsequently, obtain worthwhile experience.
I have an inkling that all of the fall internships will have already be taken, but that's not so terrible. I can focus on securing one for next semester. And if I desperately need employment, I can always find something along the way.
I think my reasoning is good, and I will insist that this is what has influenced my decision the most. But, just between you and me, faithful reader, there are other, and equally influential, reasons. These include :
1) It's summer and summer is for fun, not working
2) I'm lazy
3) I don't want to work
4) I took out enough student loans that I don't have to work
5) There are too many things to do in this city
6) My social life is suddenly four times what it used to be
So, with that, I gladly cross off Summer Goal #15 -- Hunt for a new job. Not because I completed it, but because I have abandoned it. It's a great feeling.
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