Explain angsty to me.

I had to buy a new toothbrush today. Not the most exciting part of my day, but when you accidentally drop one out of your mouth and into the toilet it's time to get a new one. This isn't first time something like this has happened to me either; a month or so ago I knocked my contact container into the flushing toilet by accident. There's something about my bathroom that I tend to knock everything off of the counter top if I move to fast and it all falls into the toilet. Anyways the point of this rambling and slightly disgusting story is that when I went to buy a toothbrush I found out that one of my best friends had gone to Maryland and never mentioned it to me. Like seriously, who goes on a trip without telling anyone?

While out running errands I ventured into Barnes and Noble's. I find something appealing and relaxing about walking through the aisles of books and finding something new to read. I particularly like to crack open a new book and smell the page. It's weird, I realize, but the scent of new ink waiting to be read is pleasing and Romantic. It's possibly the only time I will let myself be compared to young Werther and his obsession with art and learning. I really wanted to buy several books, but with rent coming up and several bills looming over my head I have to put the titles on the back burner for a time when I have more money. I spent awhile glossing over Annie Dillard's An American Childhood, which I have put on my list to read after I get through the new Jeffrey Eugenides book I got for Christmas.

I need more beer. I've run out and the beer has been fueling this post and until I get some more I'm going to have to end it here. More on the trip to Vermont and why I should become an auto mechanic in the upcoming days.

I have no idea what you just wrote.

So this evening when I got into the elevator I was greeted by a cute Asian chick and on the floor below a girl in a puffy jacket with a ski resort brochure got in with us. It was a motley mix of us: Asian hipster, Miss Nordica, and me, a burnt out writer with a bottle of Tanqueray 10. Premium, I only drink the best. It was about as close to Hank as I will ever get. A bottle in hand, writer's block from a Shakespeare final in which I incorporated Rambo, on my way out to find some sort of perverse version of sex that only Hank would enjoy (the last part is a bit of an exaggeration, just the mostly regular sex for me).

I found what I was looking for though...


Last night I went to see The Joy Formidable with my friend Other John (not my Hebrew Friend). Ever since I found out that Lance has been consistently reading this I've had to clarify more about things. Of course he always takes everything on here with multiple grains of salt so I don't worry too much about it. The show was an intimate one at the Northstar Bar in the city. We drove around the block multiple times looking for parking and after many stares from various people we found a spot. The wait in line to get in wasn't too bad, we spent most of it reminiscing about Borders life. Inside was a small space with the concert venue on one side of the building and the bar on the other. I still have the "copy" stamp I got on my wrist from getting into the bar. I ordered a Mad Elf beer for $9. It came in a wine glass, excuse me a chalice as Porch Beers corrected me before we had an Anchorman moment. It was still the same wine glass that we use at Buca, so it was a wine glass to me.

The show was amazing. Only The Joy Formidable played and it was a single set, no longer than an hour. They of course play Abacus and ended with my personal favorite The Whirring. The whole show was a benefit for Toys for Tots so the stage was decorated with $1,000 worth of toys the band had gone out and bought for the charity.

I had an amazing time last night, but not as good as it's going to get tonight. 

Have you ever been in a Turkish prison?

It's that special time of the month again. That magical week that is only seen in December and then again in early May, finals week. I've spent the past month finishing papers and completing final projects and I am wiped. I mean completely spent and I still have three more finals, a portfolio, and a case of beer to get through. I keep telling myself all I have to do is get through all of Thursday and then I can "do stuff", rest up on Friday, and then be fully prepared for the Holy War on Saturday.

Today started off with a bang! A 9am literary background exam in which I had to write three essays by hand in those wonderful blue booklets. I had two hours to complete my final and I spent the first twenty minutes of it picking at my split ends and wondering if I would actually sleep in my own bed tonight (I am because Ritzy wore me out). Once I got my brain in order I worked past the hand cramps and knocked out three more than decent essays and still had fifteen minutes left to spare. Everyone told Patti to have a nice break, but all I got out of him was a "See you on Thursday." Having the same teacher for multiple classes can have it's drawbacks. After leaving my final I went over to my office job and stuffed envelopes for a few hours so that my bosses would remember that I still worked for them.

Even after envelope stuffing I was still home before 1pm and so I decided to take a nap. I put on Airplane! and tried to close my eyes in between scenes. Nap time was only a mild success so I decided to clean my apartment (something I've desperately needed to do for a while). I cleaned the shit out of half of my living space. And I mean cleaned. I mopped and you really have to get in a vacuum and dust stuff before you run a mop over cheap hardwood floors. I have one more room to clean before I allow anyone to come through the door, but I have most of tomorrow to do it before I go into my Shakespeare final. 

Just listen.

It's been a great week for Hebrew Friend support and Hawktastic wins! Tonight we defeated Drexel and I will be honest that I had a hard time staying focused. It was a close game with Drexel tight on the Hawks' tail until the very end. My favorite little man Carl Jones had a late start, but it was C. J. who really owned the game with some amazing defense tonight. In celebration I've decided to dedicate this post to music. Win a game, get some music.

Adele - Rumour Has It

Adele, I love you and Lord knows Yonni loves you too. Obsessed with her sophomore album, 21, It's hard to believe that someone as young as she has experienced so many emotions and can sing so poignantly about them. Rumour Has It is the latest track that I have become obsessed with. 

Foster the People - Don't Stop

Everyone knows about Foster the People's Pumped Up Kicks and if you've seen the latest Nissan car commercials then you've heard Don't Stop as well. Everything about this song, the energy, the rhythm, and the lyrics are incredible. 

Fun - We Are Young

Fun's We Are Young featuring Janelle Monae has been blowing up the airwaves in Philadelphia and whenever it comes on the radio I roll down my windows and belt it out even at 8:30am, stares from strangers be damned! I can not wait to see this band live and I am eagerly awaiting their arrival in Philadelphia. 

Peter, Bjorn, and John - Second Chance

Everyone loves Peter, Bjorn, and John and everyone loves 2 Broke Girls. What do these two awesome thing shave in common? Second Chance. The band's song has become the theme song of CBS's new show and I think I heard it on the radio for a beer commercial. I love it, even more than I love Young Folks and I love that song a lot. 

Jimkata - When the Day Comes

If you haven't heard of Jimkata you haven't been listening close enough. It's okay though, I wasn't listening that well either until an acquaintance of mine introduced me to them a few months ago. I later found out that my friend Ryan went to high school with them and I have since been hooked. I listen to them in the car, on my ipod, and when I'm writing (they're playing right now). I get to see them in December at Kung Fu Necktie in Philadelphia and I've heard twitterings that they'll be in Vermont sometime in February (definitely worth the eight hour drive). I told Lance about them and now I need to give him some of their music to pass onto Charlie so that he'll book them at the Matterhorn in Stowe, VT. What's better than beer, sushi, and Jimkata?

P.S. you can download two of their albums at www.jimkata.com

Like punching in a dream breathing life into the nightmare.

Last night I found out one of my childhood mentors was diagnosed with stage 4 lung cancer that has metastasized throughout his body. He has been given 6 months to a year left to live his life. His family, friends, and the dozens and dozens of girls he has mentored through softball are devastated by this news because it feels like all we can do at this point is pray for his comfort and a miracle.

It's devastating to hear that this man may not be around for the next softball season and that so many girls will miss out on having such an amazing and inspirational coach. My mentor pushed me to my limits through sports and made me a better player and person because of it. He would not accept less than our best and when we weren't up for it he pulled us out of the game. He taught me the importance of teamwork and that a team is only as strong as their weakest player. Which is why I am so fiercely competitive on the ice and on the field. Because of him I can not accept anything but the best from myself.

Being so far away form home right now, I don't know when I will get the chance to see him soon, but I hope that I do get that chance. The girls on my old softball team have really banded together to be there for our coach and for each other. Whether we played together or not, every one of us knows what it means to be a part of his team because we are Fred's Girls.

Coach passengers are not allowed in first class, it's policy.

The good thing about a day/night full of stress is the day after when you don't have the feeling of a giant elephant crushing your lungs. After last night and my 40 oz. of coffee I can finally breathe again and maybe even get some sleep tonight. It's been a while since I've pulled an all-nighter and after being up for thirty-six hours already I'm not even entirely sure that I will be able to get to sleep tonight. Though it is very possible that I will crash down on my couch before I even finish this post. It has been a good evening though and better than yesterday.

I'm watching Bridesmaids after a dinner of broccoli and clams and I'm not sure how crazy I am about this film. I forgot to move all of the Wes Adams films up to the front of my Netflix queue. It was so hyped up during this past summer, but I just never had the time to go and see it. Now that I am watching it in my living room I'm afraid I hyped it up in my mind more than I should have. I love love LOVE Kristen Wiig and I have the biggest girl crush on Rose Byrne but their characters' constant competitive nagging is more grating than humorous. So far the only amusing character has been Jon Hamm as the asshole. Something comforting about a man like that.

I had a great workshop today with my Brevity piece and I'm still flying a little high from it (by down I'm skimming the ground but it's still a good feeling). I tackled a harder subject that I haven't really written much about in a formal setting like that: sex. All of my classmates had very positive and exceptional critical feedback about my writing and my professor was really encouraging about pushing my writing as far as I can. I'm not the first person to write about sex, but this time I didn't chose to do in a humorous way or use extreme graphic imagery. I chose a moment in time that was a little more unique than any other time and wrote about in a darker light. I usually tell the story at the bar and it's always a drunken hit, but when I wrote it out on a cocktail napkin I really examined the event and realized what an empty hollow experience it was even if it left me with a good story.

Working... Like a dog.

Rawr. I downed 40 oz. of coffee and little while ago and now I'm all jittery. It's like having an anxiety attack without the anxiety (though that may hit around 1am or 2am). I'm jumping between pacing around my apartment and banging on everything with my hands like they're drumsticks. I took a shower, ate dinner, and now I'm drinking as much water as I can to calm myself down. I have a full night's worth of homework to get through and I need steady hands so that I'm not retyping everything later. So I'm putting my crazy energy to work with this since typos aren't a problem for internet talking.

I haven't had as restful a week as I would have liked. Thanksgiving is so short and I spent most of it driving across New Jersey and Pennsylvania to get much rest. It was good to see family and spend some time with the people that I rarely get to see, but between travel and work I haven't had very much me time. I have three more weeks of school and exams and then I intend to do nothing. I've taken time off of work so that I can go back to Vermont and experience a real winter, but while I'm there I don't plan on doing much of anything. You would think that switching from physics to English I wouldn't have as much work, but I think I have more to do now than I ever have before and it's very slowly but very intently eating me away until I not much more than a shell of a person. It's driving me crazy.

It also doesn't help having family who likes to belittle and eat at you too. I love my family, I really do, but some of them are just horrible, selfish people. I don't know how my aunt does it, she has so much patience and understanding for people and yet she's surrounded by some not very nice people. I only spent twenty-fours around them and by the time I got back to the city I was reduced to tears and self-loathing from all of the negative criticisms and I had to have Yonni build be back up while I was at work.

I'm trying to get rid of my Tuesday work shift so that I can sleep in before my night class, but I desperately need the little money that I get from it. I'm still deciding if I really need it or not.

You need something witty? That's too bad.

I think to date this is the longest I have gone without posting. Of course at the rate that I get distracted by not so shiny objects it probably won't be the longest I will go either. It's been a busy past few weeks with not registering, catching up with the school work that got left in the dust, and of course work: work study and Buca included. To fill in those brief gaps of time in between one thing and the next I've been able to fit in a pint of beer, and hour of sleep, and repeat the process. I've been putting off writing and reading any blog posts because I've been so depressed and uninspired with my life, but really I should have been writing all along. Regularly posts would have made me examine my life's recent event and given me a chance to reflect on them instead of bottling them up and hiding under the two down comforters I keep on my bed in my lonely, lonely apartment.

So to get back on track here is what I've been doing to keep my mind off things:

I recently snowed a few weeks ago. I forgot to through this up a few posts back, but better late than never. I ended up spending the evening with my Hebrew Friend drinking gin and watching movies. I also got to break out my new winter boots from L.L. Bean (they have since been put back in the closet) which were super warm and soft. Best birthday gift this year. 

I made acorn squash for the first time in my apartment. I was a little lost since I've started eating squash in recent years. I put a lump of butter and some maple syrup in the middle and let the whole thing bake for about an hour. I wasn't planning on squash but Ellie got stuck in the city and I had to go rescue her and on the way home I saw the squash and got inspired. The other day I saw a squash recipe on Mr. Kate with rosemary that I want to try out next. 

The men's home opener was Monday and it wasn't even a real home opener, just a scrimmage. We won! I know shocking. It was a great time though, I played my saxophone for the first time in a year; I was impressed with the fact that I could still play it without any major problems. Go me!

As a part of being in the band we get free food. I'm not a huge fan of hotdog (who is really?) but for some reason I really wanted one. I got luck too, someone on the track team must not have been paying attention when they wrapped the yum yums because I got a two for one deal. 

Yesterday when it was dreary and dull I decided to build myself a bear cave by putting thick blankets over the window and curling under the bed sheets. I drank a glass of white wine at 2pm and it sent me into anxiety so my Hebrew Friend had to talk off of a ledge. On the bright side the not so thick blankets made me some very nice poor man's stained glass. 

This was my version of chicken Florentine. I didn't use cheese and just used the food that I happened to have in my refridge/cabinet. What you see is crushed tomatoes and some seasoned spinach on top of some chicken with some whole wheat French bread. You can see the brown with blue flower plates underneath. Those were the original plates that my parents had back in the 80s. They've been become rare collectables after giving birth to me. 

A happy photo. Except for the fact that I have a huge forehead. Do they do forehead reduction surgery? IDK?

Ps. I remembered this week that I'm a viking and apparently related to the Wannamakers of Philadelphia? WTF bitches???

Not much ado about nothing.

I don't feel like writing. I don't feel like doing much of anything past laying in bed, watching Frasier, and downing a liter of pinot grigio on my own. I haven't felt like doing much of anything for awhile now, which is why when I call my mom this morning after classes the first thing she asked was, "are you feeling alright?" I kept it short, I kept it sweet and hung up before I got too tired and dropped my phone on the floor.

I think after this weekend I will have my groove back (or whatever it was that Stella lost) and want to write things down and send them out across the internetting internet. I'm supposed to make money, drink heavily, and go see a band play; those things usually put me in a cheery mood and leave me with mildly interesting anecdotes.

Soft kitty, warm kitty, little ball of fur.

Last night was High School Throwback Night!, as in canned beer, bowling, and parking lots. It has been more than four years ago since I've drunk beer out of a can or in a parking lot. It's also been a while since I went bowling. We used to go all of the time in high school. Our reason being that it was more than an hour away to get there so we'd be using almost all of our Friday nights in transit and wouldn't have to spend much at home.

With The Girls in Atlantic City for the weekend I had to turn to The Boys for fun. We decided to go midnight bowling because of my late night work schedule and while I was at work The Hoch and I decided we wanted to go drinking so we compromised on getting a case of beer and drinking it in a parking lot until it was time to go inside. While we were sitting in my car eating yogurt and sipping Yuengling or as it's know in my family: Chinese Beer (sometimes we're not the most politically correct people out there), league bowlers kept exiting their yellow castle and we kept having to duck down behind the dash so people wouldn't question any of our questionable activities. I admit that looking back on last night we were probably a little too overcautious and brought more attention to ourselves by constantly ducking instead of just sitting still in the dark car.

Bowling was a success (at least for me!) The Hoch and I took our drinking inside to the bar, but once the black lights came on and illuminated the quinine in my drink all I could was stare at the pretty glowing drink. I love science! The gin helped be bowl my best games though. I won all three games against The Boys and I won by quite a bit too. I'm not a big fan of bowling because it always makes my fingertips hurt afterwards but last night was really fun. It's nice to take a turn away from the usual norms and do something different for a change.

The science of Tanqueray and tonic.

An Open Letter to My Bedroom

Dear Room,

Why are you so ridiculously hot? It is the beginning of November and the cold air has arrived. In fact just this past weekend we received a few inches of slushy snow, some of which sat in my car all weekend until I turned the floor heater on. Yet despite the chilliness you still remain sweltering and uncomfortable even with the window open.

Room, I hate you and your hot temperature. I am envious of everyone else with their barely above freezing boudoirs and their ability to adjust the temperature in their homes. Honestly I would trade all of my friends my bedroom for their tundra-like houses right now. I am tired of sleeping in underwear, bring on the flannels and fleeces that I brought with me from the North. Last night I even put a fan against the screen in a vain attempt to suck in the cold from outside.

Now why can't you be more like the kitchen/living room just around the corner? That's a cool room right there. With the window open and the blinds adjusted I have nice cold breeze sweeping over everything, I no longer have to worry about the butter melting if I forget to put it back in the fridge. It's cold in the living room and if I wasn't so attached to my wonderful bed I would sleep out here permanently.

Don't get get wrong Room. I love your delicate blue paint that reminds me of the ocean and the mismatched modge podge furniture that fills you. You're a great room with lots of space and a bigger closet than the room I had in my parents house before Lance moved a part of his library in and forced me and my things out. You're a lovely room in the summer with your wall-filling windows and eastern exposures, but right now you SUCK. S-U-C-K, suck suck suck.

Just please cool off soon before I have maintenance come and cool you off permanently (I don't even think that's a possibility for me).

With Love (a little annoyance),
Sidney

PS. I'm sorry I broke the radiator last night.

I might as well just stick my straw in your vagina.

It's been a busy weekend and first half of the week and if I didn't write anything today I might as well not bother at all because if I wait any longer the entire weekend will have flown right out of my head. I had to take notes again on my phone to remember what happened (there was a lot of drinking and non-Mary Ann approved activities going on). Most of the notes were gargly jokes about menstruation and glory holes (that's right I made menstruation funny and a lot of people uncomfortable). This post's title was one of my gargly text drafts and a product of Employee of the Month, Ben. Thank you Ben for today's contribution.

Let's begin with Friday the night of red pants, lady glory holes and all the period jokes I could come up with in four hours of imbibing (high five for big vocab!). What was supposed to be the first night of Halloweekend turned into Let's Just Drink At McShea's Night. W. decided to ignore all of my innuendos at work especially my own little cherry gem. For those of you who weren't there it went something like this (I think):

"Hey W. you don't have any more cherries in your caddy. It's okay I don't have mine either."

That was really the beginning of the end for me, I'm pretty sure Alanna almost busted a gut at my disgusting wit. McShea's was quiet so we took over the bar and I took my time emptying the bar's PBR keg. I kept a lookout for one of my hockey coaches before remembering that he was on retreat for the weekend with the freshman. I need to remember to get his number for next time, it turns out that the man I  so adamantly despised three years ago is the man version of me. All that wasted drinking time, oh well live and learn. Dez showed up three beers and two games of Spot the Difference later which almost made my night complete. What really did it was sitting next to W. while he made friends at the bar and making loud vagina references and sexy jokes out loud (Mom don't bother calling me I was drinking and it was Friday). The Ladies arrived just as I was about to call it a night, but I stayed an hour later to chat with them and sober up a bit more for the ride home. Don't drink and drive people, you might back into a dumpster and break your side view mirror off. I was glad I stayed too, turns out Slolly had seen The Crush and I always appreciate little nuggets of info about The Crush (word of advice: bad costume choice). When I got home I fully intended to make the cookies that I kept telling everyone I was  going to make, but somewhere between getting in the apartment and tripping over my pants I missed the opportunity to whip up a batch of Netsle Tollhouse goodness.

The good thing about drinking for me is that I tend to wake up super early no matter what time I went to bed the night (morning) before. I used the time to make the cookie dough I had been intending to make since Wednesday before I had to be off to work. Work schmork. The only good thing was that it snowed buckets on Saturday and so people decided to wait until the last minute to get supplies from Superfresh and once they got to Superfresh and realized that Buca was open and that they could just eat out and bring home leftovers instead of buying groceries they came and tipped me money for serving them mediocre Italian food. Sometimes Mainliners can be cool. Sometimes.

After having the loud Friday night that I had (it turns out I can't really remember a chunk of it) I decided to have a quieter Saturday. I hung out with The Bear at his house. We watched Horrible Bosses and drank gin, I also ate the cookie dough from earlier. It was good. I also got my ass kicked by The Bear. It turns out I'm not good at wrestling someone who's a foot taller and has forty pounds of muscle on me. It was quite embarrassing and I let my competitive edge out way too aggressively which led me to hurting my back and looking like a complete fool. Once again live and learn.

Sunday and what should have been the culmination of Halloweekend fun was more like let's tuff my face as fast as possible at McShea's 2.0. For some reason going straight from work to hockey practice and then right to the bar for the Eagles-Cowboys game made me incredibly hungry (and incredibly smelly after a night of skating). D. handed over his plat of wings with the intention of letting me have one or two and I devoured the whole plate in two minutes (not quite record breaking but still impressive) I went on to have a very tall cheeseburger and more wings. At one point in the night D. bought us all green shots that were made up of rum, Midori, and pineapple juice. I don't do shots, but this one went down pretty easy. I told Lance about them and we're going to order some the next time we hit the Matterhorn.

I need to write more frequently so that I can remember more.

Finally....I AM A SORT-OF-AUNT AGAIN!!!! My cousin Dani has just given birth to her beautiful baby girl Rylee. I am ridiculously excited to meet the baby, hopefully the Little Ball of Laugh won't get too jealous. 

I'm gonna roll with the punches 'til it gets old.

Every time I wear my red plaid shirt people call me a free spirit. Every time I hear that I laugh out loud, A LOT. It's not that I don't mind being called that, it's just that never in a million years did I ever think that that term could ever be applied to me. Back in high school I used to be such a tight-ass (insert one of Warren's inappropriate sexual jokes). I seriously used to be such an elitist and judgmental BITCH that it's amazing that I had any friends at all. Of course I did come from a small, elitist New England town where many of the townspeople had sticks so far up their behinds it's amazing they were able to move at all without toppling over.

Growing up my house was not at all elitist or uptight. Maybe a little judgmental from all the Catholic guilt my mother carried around and forced upon us whenever she had the chance. And to be fair I think she was pressured into some of it by her church friends. It was like a competition between them, who can be more holy and to prove what good church goers they were they used to compete at getting to church the earliest and how many church related activities they could force their children in. My mother got sucked into it all and forgot her beach bum/ski bum roots in an effort to roll with the holy crowd. Now that I'm older, most of the overbearing church ladies have moved away and my mother is left with the genuine ones who aren't so preoccupied with being crazy and more with being good and kind people.

Lance was always chill though, a little crazy once I hit sixteen, but always chill and honest about life. He had no pretensions about anything or anyone. Of course it's his upbringing and he's disdain for totally stupid people that's made him the way he is, but he never let the crazy parts of Stowe get to him and turn him into the ugliness that a lot of his 1980s fellow ski bums have become. He's even done his best to reign in my mother's crazy bits and keep the household relatively sane. It hasn't been the easiest time for him with all the estrogen floating in the air. There's really only so much you can do with a religious zealot, a moody uptight teenager, and a naive sheep. He did his best though and eventually it's started to rub off.

I tell people that I'm going through my "Lance phase" in life right now. I've given up caring about the nit picky stuff, I do what I want without hurting too many people, I try not to be a burden on society, I only hang out in quiet/dive bars, I drink gin like it's my job, and I indulge in the greener things in life every now and again (not as much as the family men, but I'm catching up at my own pace). I was essentially raised by my dad so it's fair to say that at some point I would just want to pick everything up and Chris McCandless it across the country or jump off a cliff without a parachute. Of course I don't think I want to marry before I'm thirty or drive a van with shag carpeting.

I'm not sure when the move from "uptight" to "free spirit" happened or why I'm always wearing the same shirt when it happens, but it's been going on for a couple of years now and I'm starting to grow into it and like it more and more. I've become more spontaneous, dropping things to drive to ocean, take of into the night with friends, play baseball in the early morning hours on a basketball court, or hop museum fences. I used to think that I would have cookie cutter life, living on the East coast with a middle class cookie cutter husband with our two kids and dog (not cats). We would be clean, religious, and sterile. Now the thought of that makes me want to vomit. I'm ready to pack as much as I can into the Subaru and drive as far away from those ideas as I can get. I want to take off and live on a whim like Lance or even my mom (it's easy to forget that she was once cool too). I want to have Merrie tow me on a skate board down City Ave as fast I can go, skinned knees and broken arms be damned.

I also want to release these squirrels too. 

Dear Chase,

Dear Chase, 


I feel like I can call you Chase because you and me are so much alike. I would love to meet you someday. It would be great to have a catch. I know I can’t throw as fast as you, but I think you would be impressed by my speed. I love you hair. You run fast. Did you have a good relationship with your father? Me neither. These are all things we can talk about. And more. I know you have not been getting my letters because I know you would write back if you did. And I hope you write back this time and we get to be good friends. I’m sure our relationship would be a real home run.

Mac

I have been seeing posters all over campus with the Chase Utley letter on them advertising the Always Sunny marathon in the Perch and every time I see them I become ridiculously happy because the Chase Utley letter episode happens to be one of my all time favorite Always Sunny episodes and the scene where Dee reads the letter out loud is the funniest moment in the history of the show. Since I have been so extremely tired today I found the sign extra funny and have been laughing hysterically every time I read it. People are beginning to think I'm losing my mind (maybe I am). 

It's been a particularly exhausting weekend for me for some reason. Maybe the thousand hours of hockey and work and nearly no sleep is what's doing me in, oh let's face it I'm a fucking machine and a lack of sleep will not defeat me (even if I end up looking like a ghost). However if one more person comes up to me and tells me how tired I looking I will fucking lose it and punch them in the face. 

Tiredness aside, it's been a monumental weekend for SJU women's hockey. We had our first game as a part of the DVCHC league up in Hackensack against Columbia. We lost spectacularly, 2-10. Both goals were scored by defenders and both were really beautiful. I also sustained my first injury of the season: a bruise the shape of the velcro part of my elbow pad. Some girl rammed me hard enough that I now have a bruise from where a piece of my protective gear was pushed deep enough into my skin that it left a mark. It's not terrible and certainly not the worst I've had, but it's nice to start the season off with something small yet respectable. Some of my teammates need to start learning to take hit otherwise they are going to be in a world of hurt as the season progresses. I've certainly decided to use this to my advantage and work out my anger and frustration on the ice, mostly in my skating, but eventually it's going to be a challenge. W. mentioned that sometimes hockey can be the source of his frustration and I'm deeply afraid that that is what is happening to me. 

It's just frustrating that so many people say that they are committed to the team, but don't both coming to practice or to games. The club is still in its infancy and while we have been able to recruit a few girls each year we still lose people and if we can't be bothered to show up to practice, especially the people that need it the most, then we aren't going to win anything and it will become harder and harder to get girls interested in playing on the team. Clearly women's hockey is not as popular in Philadelphia as it is in other parts of the country and right now this is my only chance to play. I love skating and being on the ice and I am not ready to give it up just yet. I just find it extremely frustrating that I've been willing to sacrifice a lot of things, including my best friend's birthday, for this team and yet very few seem to be willing to do the same. Maybe I'm expecting too much, but I came to play to win and everyone else should be doing the same. 

Moving on, I've decided that maybe I should be carrying around a Moleskin-type notebook. Something small and thin that I can slip into my pocket or bag and whip out whenever I need to jot something down. This weekend I spent a lot of time typing notes into my phone for later writing ideas. I see and hear stuff that makes for amazing material and it's getting harder and harder to remember most of it in my old age. If I had a notebook I wouldn't have to remember it. 

In fact I had to write down everything I wanted to wrote about in this post because it had been so long since I was able to write. There's too much to cover, so I'm going to spread stuff out over the week, but I am going to end this with some music. W. has played Jimkata for me a couple of times now and the more I hear them the more I really love the stuff I hear. They're an electro-rock band out of upstate New York and their sound is mind blowing, a simple concept with amplified technique and power. It's easy to get lost in Jimkata's rhythms and let them take you someplace else. I've been listening to Devils in the Details on repeat since Saturday. You can download their album here >> I did it, you should too. 

Jimkata's Devils in the Details

I look at the floor and I see it needs sweeping.

I was going to start off with something else, but then my building caught fire and I figured I should lead off with that in case my mom talks to my dad or something. I'm fine, my building's fine, and there is fire extinguishing chemicals all over my hallway. The fire alarm going off is not an uncommon occurrence as my building is rather old so I rarely pay head to when it goes off. Tonight when more than the usually obligatory number of fire trucks showed up I figured that I should at least go out into the hallway and see if anything was out there. There was. My hallway was filled with a yellow-gray hazy smoke that was absolutely putrid in my mouth and nose. I grabbed my keys and made for the exit before deciding that this could actually turn into something and so I went back in and grabbed my glasses, computer, and fuzzy and made for the fresh air. The stair well was dripping on several of the floors below me, maybe my floor wasn't on fire just yet. I sat in my car eating Honey Nut Cheerios and texted various people to keep busy while I waited an appropriate amount of time to go back inside. Thank God I didn't bring in the box of dry goods yet otherwise I'd probably still be out there searching or food in the woods. Climbing nine floors in a raining staircase in leather shoes is a little daunting, and there was quite a bit of dirty rain coming down on me, but my apartment was safe and almost scent free by the time I got back to it. The fire department is still out there as of right now, but I don't think there's any serious damage to the majority of the building. Plus statistically I've already lived through my large fire, car accident, and weather disaster so who I am to play with statistics?



On a less exciting, but more interesting note I had three people in class today tell me to see the new George Harrison documentary. Believe me people I would like to, but I don't have HBO so I must find another way. I live for Harrison, he was hands down the best Beatle ever. Everyone likes to go on and on about John or Paul, but John really wasn't that awesome and Paul already has enough fans. In fact I can't stand John Lennon in the least and tend to ignore the people who can't stop talking about him. As a whole, John contributed greatly to the music of The Beatles, but that's the end of it. I'm going to get a lot of hate mail from the Lennon Lovers for saying that. Anyways since I wasn't one of the ones watching the documentary over and over during fall break I watched Concert for George on PBS. Concert for George was a concert put on by several musicians including Paul, Ringo, Eric Clapton and George's son Dhani as a memorial of the late musician a year after his death. It was held back in 2002 and I remember watching it for the first time with my dad while I was still in middle school. Since then I have seen in numerous times and have learned quite a bit about Mr. Harrison. My favorite part is still the group performance of While My Guitar Gentle Weeps. That song is one of my all time favorites and Clapton on lead guitar is phenomenal.

I used to have the biggest crush on Dhani.

Today we also took pictures for our upcoming hockey game. We needed to load our roster for the DVCHC so we did picture day in Jay's office. I put a piece of take on my glasses as a Slap Shot homage and of course Jay picked the worst one in the bunch of me. But it doesn't really matter because now it's official. We have a team and our first game is Saturday against Columbia. 

Truck Bear and Andy are still alive.

I Lovermont and all that jazz, but the one thing that I really can't stand is that everyone seems to want to outdo each other in how long they can go without turning on the heat in their homes. I know the price of heating fuel is nothing to scoff at, but if you don't have a fireplace or a wood stove in your home to help supplement the freezing damp air that can settle into the old floorboards and stone foundations and make it feel like you're living in a damp, cold cloud then maybe you should turn the heat up soon than later. Right now I have on three shirts, a wool sweater, and wool socks that I pilfered from my mom's sock drawer and I'm still nippy. I spent the morning walking around with my fuzzy over my shoulder, making me look like half a yeti and no friend of PETA and am was seconds away from stick my hands in boiling water just to feel something. I wish I had purchased the wool and fleece mittens from Caplan's (Morrisville's answer to a Cabela's but with all of the hunting equipment already sold out for the season). In fact when I head back up to Morrisville to pick up my car I think I will stop and pick up a pair. Now do I want full mittens or the ones that flip over and become fingerling gloves?

It was a nice morning in Lamoille County despite the fact that poor Twilla has to have to body work done to pass inspection. I dropped her off and walked into the village to get my skates sharpened and purchase tape and some new laces. I went with the butter yellow ones that were popular in high school. The store was almost completely unchanged form my childhood. The summer items were still in stock so most of the hockey and ski equipment were still in back. The same guy who sharpened my figure skate was still running the shop and the only other customer was a James Franco look-a-like trying on ski boots. In the back half of the shop is the work area where a tired fluffy dog was laying in a pile of saw dust taking a nap. After I made my purchase I wandered next door to Caplan's and perused their winter apparel. I would liked to have gotten a few flannel shirts, but they were all in larger lady sizes. I'll have to hit up the Carhartt website for those. When I grew tired of browsing I went outside and sat on the curb and replaced the laces in my skates until Lance arrived to take me back to my car, which I had to leave overnight anyways.

Even after my trip to Morrisville the house was still freezing and somewhat damp so I wandered across the field to my godparent's house where I knew they had a wood stove. Total jackpot with that idea. I ended up spending several hours catching up with everyone over there over a nice Long Trail and a cup of tea. I only ended up leaving because my mother called over and said that it was time for dinner with Cathy otherwise I would have enjoyed the pesto macaroni and cheese and acorn squash filled with butter and maple syrup that was roasting in the oven.

Future house, maybe.

Just because I slept with you doesn't mean I'll ski with you.

So true with so many things. 

I'm in Vermont for fall break so you know that only means one thing: broing out with my dad. And of course sushi and mai tais at the Matterhorn where I got the lovely shirt above the last time I was there. It was an atypical day for me, waking up after 9:00am, going to lunch with my mom and some friends and then taking a long nap before heading out around 7:00pm with Lance. It'd been months since I could really sleep in and I only got up then because he was catering and I wanted to eat some of the scraps for breakfast. I'm not used to having so much food in one place, last night I was hunting around for a snack and got so overwhelmed by the choices that I just went for Saltines and grape jelly while I caught up on episodes of Always Sunny and The League. 

The last child that lived here moved out two years ago.

The Matterhorn was crowded, a good sign and the last of the leaf peepers bring income into town. It's a cool little bar at the foot of The Mountain with a sushi bar along the river and an enclosed smoking deck where the ski patrol forces newbies to do shots of Jager until they drop while everyone sings the cheer that's supposed to accompany the drinking. Tonight we sat at a quiet table on the sushi side and I watched the tail end of the Auburn game. I had two Jesse mai tais, two rolls of sushi and beer battered scallops. The mai tais were successful in dulling the senses and we spent a majority of the night in a half stupor once we got home. Someone messed up on a pizza order and I got to take it home for breakfast tomorrow. Sometimes it pays to be a Purnell and other times a Molino. This was one of those times, thank you free pizza. On our way out I was pleasantly pleased to see that the yellow lab and horse were still hanging outside the bar. The dog was very sweet and had a crowd of it's own and the horse was extremely gentle although not impressed with getting it's picture taken by so many people. The owner of course was inside looking like a total douche with his ten gallon hat and spurs. You're in Vermont asshole not Texas and leaving your animals out in the cold while you drink beer does not make you cool. 

A horsie!

Being in Vermont could not have come a better time. It's almost 11pm and I'm in bed watch Ugly Americans and writing this post, something I haven't done on a Saturday night ages. Usually I would be working and then heading out to the bar to spend a percentage of my nightly earnings on beer and blue collar fun. As much as I enjoy doing those things it's nice to get out of the city and away from school and all of the other crap I have going on in my life. Sometimes it just gets a little overwhelming not knowing what it going on that I need to just take a step back and head up into the woods. So that's where I am now: in the woods. I have to write a paper and get my backgrounds blog updated, but I also need to sleep in, eat ridiculous amounts of sugary cereal, go hiking, canoeing, and eat chili tomorrow afternoon. This weekend couldn't have come at a better time. 

I want to be the one to push you off the cliff.

I received the best text message in class today. It was from unfamiliar Vermont number telling me to have chili at the Hob Knob on Sunday after the farmer's market. I had no idea who had sent the text and whether or not it was supposed to be directed at me, but either way I love chili and I love the Hob Knob so I decided that I would be attending no matter what. In fact I got myself so excited about Sunday chili and the Hob Knob that I started rationalizing me crashing a chili party out loud in class to the point that my peers joined in on my personal debate and  gave their own opinions on what I should do. Once I walked out of the room, my phone was hit by a bunch of texts from my dad saying that we were going to the Hob Knob for chili on Sunday. Baller. Turns out the text was from the inn's owner and I just didn't transfer her number over to my newer phone. Silly me, but I provided entertainment for my stressed out class as usual.

Today I attended a meeting about grad school which was hosted by the English department. I have come to the conclusion that I have no idea what I am doing with my life, but if I do apply I need to apply somewhere out west so that I look geographically appealing to schools that I am interested in. I also found out that I need to suck up my apprehensions about teaching if I want to get into a funded program and not have to sell my soul to Satan just to be able to obtain my MFA. I am positive I will be taking time off before applying because I need to build my portfolio and develop pieces that are more than just Brevity submissions or angsty prose poems. My next assignment for my nonfiction class is to write a longer piece up to twenty pages and I want to create something that I will eventually be able to use as a part of my portfolio. My only problem is that I'm not sure that I have the focus and endurance to write something that long. Until this morning I didn't think I've been doing anything other than breathing for more than ten seconds. It turns out I have been skating for twenty years. As soon as I said that at practice this morning I felt old and I AM NOT old. I was amazed that I was able to admit that I was able to say twenty years about anything so soon in my life. I was still thinking it was a surreal thing for me in my nonfiction class that I started talking about it and that's when my teacher said that that would be something worth writing about. Twenty years of skating, both hockey and figure, has provided me with plenty of experiences and anecdotes for my paper. Now I just need to find my focus and concentration to start writing. Not his weekend though because I will be in Vermont and hopefully I will remember to pick up some new skate laces before mine snap.

Oh my God! You like sneeze glitter.

Someone mentioned nostalgia to me recently and being young still there aren't very many things that I am nostalgic for especially since I've running away from most things in the recent years. This morning on my way to school I was stopped at a light, while I was sitting, waiting for the green, an Amtrak train passed by on it's way to 30th Street Station. I see the trains go by all of the time, hear them at night when my window's open and never think twice about it, but something this morning made me think about all the times I would take the train from Philadelphia to Vermont before I co-purchased Twila. I used to ride twelve hours up the eastern seaboard and into New England to visit my family whenever I had time off from school.

It would be very rare for me to fly to Vermont and when I did it was often from JFK and would cost almost as much as a train ticket home to get to New York just to shave a few hours off of my travel time. After the planes, trains, and automobiles fiasco at Thanksgiving my freshman year of college, I decided to stick to Amtrak. I even enrolled in the Amtrak points program so that I could get free tickets to Lancaster to visit my mother's side of our family. The train ride to Vermont, also called The Vermonter, took a full day to complete, but it allowed me some free time away from school to read, watch a movie, or work on my log book. In my log book there are many a page dedicated to all of my train rides and the weird stories that came with them.

One summer, during the two week gap between summer and fall semesters, I was forced out of student housing to make way for the cleaners and had to go home. It was also a chance to get away form one of the muggiest summers in the city and go water skiing and eat sushi at the Matterhorn. A week before I had to clear out of my tiny dorm room, I had one of my local friends come down and help me pack up all of my belongings and move them over to my aunt's house out in the suburbs. For the rest of the week that I was on campus I lived out of a small backpack and slept under a set of sheets that I planned on throwing out as soon as I left. The night before I was scheduled to depart I had campus security drive me to the R5 and I caught the last train into the city, this was sometime around 12:30am. My train was scheduled to depart some time after 5am. Lance was at a corporate meeting in Albany, NY and would drive through Whitehall around the same time one of the upstate NY trains would be passing through. We previously arranged that I should take a train to Penn Station and then get on the Whitehall train so that I could meet him and have him drive me home instead of wasting a full day on the tracks. The only problem with this was that there is no early morning way to get to 30th Street without taking a cab and was once a very, very poor college student, in fact I still am. So instead of paying a cab, I spent the night in the train station with a crazy lady who wouldn't leave despite security's best attempts. I slept like a dolphin, one eye open to guard my bag and make sure I didn't miss my train. I eventually made it to Whitehall only to spend half an hour sitting at a picnic table waiting for my dad to arrive (Whitehall is an outdoor platform and a picnic place all in one).

One of the stations I pass through on my way into Waterbury.

This weather we've been having as also been something that has made me feel comfortable and miss Vermont, just a little bit. Up north foliage is coming to an end and the winter rains are coming in and stripping the trees of their leaves and preparing everyone for the snow that will begin to arrive at the end of the month. The weather is mostly a cold dampness and overcast. It is the time where wool sweaters are brought out of storage and extra blankets cover the sofa (God forbid and turns up the heat in their house). The mountain begins to start blowing snow on a trail or two to get a jump start on the season and the rink posts the upcoming public skating times. On Sundays I can convince my mother to make pot roast (with Lance's supervision) and I will put on the rain boots I bought in 7th grade and walk around in the last of the wet brown leaves that cover the backyard. For the next week or so the road in front of my house will be coated in hay from the hayrides her church hosts and I will have tried every apple recipe I can get my hands on. It's the brief few weeks that signify the end of a bright, tourist filled fall and before the advent of a white, tourist filled winter that I love the most and wish that I could experience something like it down in the city. 

She might be a really nice HO!

New favorite thing of the moment: Of Monsters and Men's Little Talks. Of Monsters and Men is a band fresh out of Iceland with an all-around folk/indie inspired sound. However the music is more than just a few acoustic guitars, OMaM mixes in accordions, bass, piano, and drums to create a large than life yet simple and pleasant sound. Throw in a pair of rough and harmonic vocals and it's become something akin to Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeroes or Beirut. Still in their infant beginnings, Of Monsters and Men already has a strong cult-like following in Philadelphia and I am closely and patiently awaiting their arrival on American soil (unless I can somehow make it to Iceland in the very near future).

A live recording of Little Talks. I think my grandmother had a couch like that.

Even more exciting than some cool music is the release of Jeffrey Eugenides new book, The Marriage Plot. I've been a huge fan of Eugenides work since I read The Virgin Suicides one afternoon while busing around France. The was something so invoking and relatable to me about oppressive mothers and five sisters who strangely committed suicide within the course of a year. While I don't have five sisters and my days of an oppressive mother are long gone I still find something curious and intriguing about the style and the unsatisfying ending. Eugenides sophomore novel Middlesex was also a story that I strongly enjoyed. It took me a little more than a month to read the book during my hour break at Borders a few times a week, but in the end I did and even though I am bothered by Oprah's need to put her sticker on books I can appreciate why she did it with this one. A journey through time, the story tells the experiences of a young girl from a Greek family growing up in Michigan. Unknown to her, she carries a mutated gene from generations of inbreeding that makes her a biological hermaphrodite and in the end forces her to decide upon which sex she truly identifies with. It is a beautiful story about the challenges of growing up in an immigrant family and assimilating with American culture during some of the most trying times in American history.

The Marriage Plot looks to be as exciting and engaging as The Virgin Suicides and Middlesex and I am hoping to get my hands on a copy of it sometime this weekend while I'm in Vermont. I also need to get my own copy of Middlesex and replace the one I had of The Virgin Suicides. So much to do this weekend. 

You smell funny, you smell like conniving.

I've been bad. I haven't written in ages and when I have they haven't been very intelligent or enlightening (though that last one was pretty good, I need to listen to more music). It's been hard to want to write when I've been so busy and tired from everything else that I have going on. I've been doing a lot of required reading and writing and it's taken all of the fun out of doing what I do on here. I had forgotten that I actually like writing until the other day when we had a visitor in my nonfiction class. Jennifer Cognard-Black came to speak with us on writing and she actually led our class in writing exercises. We spent a great deal of time working with imagery and how to use imagery in our writing, something I sometimes struggle with. Later in the evening I attended a reading of her short story, Burn. It was an excellent piece about a fictionalized story in Edith Wharton's life and I commend her use of "douche" in front of the department chair. Apparently the reading was quite the turn of the century little piece of hotness for one the women sitting in the front row because she seemed very flustered and turned on by what she was hearing. More than once I saw her fanning herself and making "that face." Despite the hotness, the piece was beautifully written with flowing imagery and bountiful analogies. That was another thing I need to work on in my writing, analogies. Unfortunately the only ones I'm good at are inappropriate for even this blog. Professor Cognard-Black's visit has renewed an interest in writing for me, at least on here.

In other news The League is back! I know you'd think I'd have more exciting news than an FX show, but I really like, even more than Always Sunny. This is what happens when you spend free period in the lab with a bunch of boys. Seriously though, I live for Nick Kroll. Yes he rocks facial hair and glasses, but there's more to him that makes even better than Taco. Kroll's charcater Ruxin is a sarcastic and snarky person who always tries manipulate situatuions to his advantage in his fantasy football league. He's kind of like the male version of the me that I wish I could some days be. I alway wish that I was as cool as Jenny, Kevin's football loving wife who also happens to be a Shiva Bowl winner. The next time you're flipping through your television provider's channel list on a Thursday night make sure to land on FX and watch The League. You won't be disappointed and hopefully not too offended.

The one with the glasses is Kroll. He's cool. 

I also recently discovered that my sister finally understands me (and by recently I mean a few hours ago). It's only taken her nineteen years to figure out what a dorky nerd I can be and that my glasses really do fit my face. I haven't seen Samantha since August (I think) and I haven't spoken to since maybe before that (something that demonstrates the current nature of our relationship, but somehow she must have known that I had a "lame" weekend and for the first time ever posted something other than the obligatory "Happy Birthday" on my facebook wall. Below is a collection of nerdy pick up lines that I am sure have been used by more than just the author. The pictures are also pretty cute too.

More here.

Please put your shirt back on, please don't make me laugh at you.

The other day I had the opportunity to go see Rubblebucket down in the city with some very cool people. I was supposed to have a late night sports practice, which ended up not happening and so I drove down to 38th and Chestnut, and after a few directionally challenged moments, I ended up at The Blockley. The Blockley is a small venue engulfed by University City and host to a lot a musical acts that I have never heard of (though honestly my musical taste is still mostly mainstream and it takes a while for me to hear about stuff that is off my radar). Don't judge me on that last sentence though.

Despite my musical naivete, Rubblebucket was amazing and a small shout out to Greg who apparently set the motion for me eventually coming to see them. The bar was packed with hipsters, students, and general music goers mixed in. The energy the entire time I was there was at the absolute maximum and movement remained fluid, energetic, and nonstop. I appreciated the ironic dance moves of the hipsters, they helped make my atrocious white girl dancing less obvious, especially since I was with people who have clearly spent most of their life dancing to the sweet tunes of Rubblebucket.

The band themselves were also an amazing troupe of indie-dance musicians. Lately I've gotten into anything group that incorporates a brass section into what their doing and that the front girl also played baritone saxophone was just the icing on the cake. For it was the trombone and trumpet players that really made the show. A ginger trombonist and a trumpet player with an ironic mustache that broke into simultaneous tribal inspired two-steps whenever they had the chance really gave the group character. The keyboardist with the Mountain Dew t-shirt, you're pretty cool too and when we made eye contact and smiled at each other it really made me forget the fact that I hate Mountain Dew. The real star of the show was the group's bassist. The poor guy looked like he was in trouble most of the time and had to count each beat aloud as he went along. It was so awkward and stiff to see him up there.

Their music was amazing and as soon as I got home I YouTubed several of videos of their music before passing out in comfort and musical bliss. I would definitely see this Brooklyn based band by way of Vermont (that's right there's another cool thing from Vermont besides Matt from Matt & Kim) and any band that's willing to hang around and play a benefit for victims of Irene is pretty cool too.

That's right Burlington I can see you in the background.

Does your mother always cut your meat for you?

Rawr! Today I am a tired dinosaur. Actually this morning I was a tired dinosaur and stayed in bed until 9:30am and still got to school in time to buy a HUGE cup of coffee and a protein bar before Patti's 10am class. We had a quiz that I was completely unprepared for, but actually may done well on. Thank God we talk about the course material in class most of the time. There was only one question that I struggled with: what was the original meaning of 'romance'? I answered 'something Middle Englishy'. What I really should have said was 'something Middle Frenchy'. Oh well, live and learn. Oh hey look at that, I finally used a Mary Ann Purnellism (usually they only come from Lance).

After talking my way through a made up answer, I had my second and last class of the day. My second and last class of the day is also with Patti in the room next door to my first class (I realize that I have have such a strenuous Friday). Half the class was absent and so we took our time getting started. One of my classmates is reading James Joyce's Ulysses. Apparently in the book Joyce discusses 'tightened scotums' gross indeedy and dear sweet Father F. decided to talk about that phrase is his class. My classmate had no idea what he was talking about so he decided to bring it up in Patti's class. Let's just say Patti was not going there with a ten foot pole. Instead we discussed Community and the awesome paintball episodes. He was going to talk about last night's episode, but I shut that down real quick since I hadn't seen it yet (I watched it as soon as I got home). We spent the first twenty minutes talking about non-class related things and we still got out early. I love Friday's with Patti. Amy you missed an awesome class, Randy found out he could go to grad school for free in the midwest.

This is what we discussed in Middle English today. Not quite Marie de France, but still pretty awesome.

Everyone I owe money to thinks I live in Seattle.

I'm dying!!! Ahahaha just kidding. Actually it's quite a possibility because I'm pretty sure that my air conditioner is spraying mold into my room as I sleep. I think this because every time I turn it on I get the instant scent of mildew wafting through my bedroom. I also think this because my allergies have started acting up like they never have before. I woke up this morning unable to breathe and my nose running (complete overshare). Thanks to my handy dandy netti pot and a cup of the herbal cold tea my mother like to buy me I was able to get out of my door and to class. I spent most of the day trying to keep hydrated and Adviled and by the time it was fine for field hockey practice I was up and running the way I should have been this morning. Very uncomfortable and I might jut sleep on my couch tonight.

They're coming for me!

I started ice hockey this weekend. IT WAS AMAZING! I haven't skated all summer and I forgot how amazing it feels. I also forgot about how bad the ice can be when it's too humid inside of the rink. While stretching I watched the rain drops fall onto the ceiling and only ten minutes into practice the ice was so chewed up and chalky that the faster I tried to skate the slower I ended up going. I have dryland in the morning and I'm even excited about that even though it's in the hottest sweatiest room on campus. I'm also excited that we've joined a league. That's right we're actually going to have games this year too against real school teams. Our first game is on Oct. 22 against Columbia in NY (actually NJ). So unbelievably excited for this game. We also have more than one this year too, which means Dr. A will actually come see us play. Baller.

Jenna COME HOME!!!

I had an amazing birthday week last week. More to come on that later.