Today I was searching for some ideas about what to do on Valentine's Day around these parts if all of your interests and emotions aren't encapsulated by CW teen dramas like Dawson's Creek and Gossip Girl. (Let's say, hypothetically, that I'll have a date. I don't write about those kinds of things on this blog so you'll have to speculate.) So I googled "alternative valentines day" and it returned a lot of unprofessionally published and edited articles by bitter, bitter single women and cheap-ass men about how much "V-day BLOWS" and how your girlfriend should be happy with chocolate-flavored condoms because she better consider YOUR needs, too, brah.
I am of the opinion that every holiday "BLOWS" so I don't harbor any special hostility toward one aimed at people in relationships. It's still better than a holiday aimed at taking candy from strangers and dressing in terrifying rubber masks, or one that wastes the last few precious seconds of a fleeting year by counting backwards from 10. My intention was to find some sort of ingenious idea to take your date, who might-- just hypothetically-- be a handsome musician, to hear live music and maybe drink a hilariously tacky pink alcoholic beverage. Or maybe, like at UChicago, there is a free reading of the Vagina Monologues put on by the students. Probably not in the South.
So I smartened my google search to include the words "chapel hill," because I know that there are at least 5,000 sorority girls and their fraternity boyfriends who are federally mandated to love Valentine's Day. My search returned an account of an incident that occurred on February 14, 2007 on the student union quad at UNC. The story is here. Basically, a student discovered his girlfriend was cheating and he invited the entire campus to see him dump her on the quads, luring her there on the premise of having her serenaded in public. It turned out to be a hoax, but watch the video of the event, and pay attention to the crowd. Near the end of the video the boys begin chanting "Slut! Slut! Slut!" and that's when I realized that this whole incident is symptomatic of something very unattractive in Southern romantic notionry. I'm still pondering the extent to which I'm disgusted or amused by the way Southern people think about other people, and how much of my perception is a unique experience because I am a creep magnet.
Anyway. If any of you have any amazingly creative ideas for what two people-- hypothetically, me and a hypothetical cute date-- might do on Valentine's Day that won't make me gag, I would LOVE to read them.
January 26, 2009
January 19, 2009
At long last:
Today I did a couple of things that I have been wanting to do since I was five: I played with mud, mated frogs, and didn't wear a hat in January. All of these amazing events were brought to me by the University of North Carolina!
When we mate the frogs, we have to create some sexy mud-lined motel rooms for them so they feel comfortable. Then we lovingly inject them with hormone to get their mojo working. We put some frog choruses on to set the mood. Tomorrow, I'll run into the animal room like a kid on Christmas morning to see if my little Emma and Mr. Knightly, Janet and Brad, Beatrice and Benedick, Miss Piggy and Kermit, Bert and Ernie [don't be so homonormative], Dominique and Roark, Mountain Girl and Kesey, Lara and Zhivago, Margarita and Master, and Maude and Harold have successfully completed the only relevant task of their short lives.
When I was little, my little girlfriends would come over and play house in my tree fort while I dug through the garden looking for slugs and undeveloped cicada larvae. They braided one other's hair while I sprayed beehives to see if bumblebees can fly wet. They tattled to my mom while I dissected dead birds with sticks. Those little bitches.
By the way, bumblebees can fly when they are wet. They can pretty much fly fast enough to catch up with a ten year old who is running away as fast as she can. When they sting you in your mouth, it looks like collagen injections. Now you know!
When we mate the frogs, we have to create some sexy mud-lined motel rooms for them so they feel comfortable. Then we lovingly inject them with hormone to get their mojo working. We put some frog choruses on to set the mood. Tomorrow, I'll run into the animal room like a kid on Christmas morning to see if my little Emma and Mr. Knightly, Janet and Brad, Beatrice and Benedick, Miss Piggy and Kermit, Bert and Ernie [don't be so homonormative], Dominique and Roark, Mountain Girl and Kesey, Lara and Zhivago, Margarita and Master, and Maude and Harold have successfully completed the only relevant task of their short lives.
When I was little, my little girlfriends would come over and play house in my tree fort while I dug through the garden looking for slugs and undeveloped cicada larvae. They braided one other's hair while I sprayed beehives to see if bumblebees can fly wet. They tattled to my mom while I dissected dead birds with sticks. Those little bitches.
By the way, bumblebees can fly when they are wet. They can pretty much fly fast enough to catch up with a ten year old who is running away as fast as she can. When they sting you in your mouth, it looks like collagen injections. Now you know!
January 18, 2009
Winter makes me stir-fry crazy
During the winter, I get a lot of crazy ideas that my mother and my precious sane friends usually have to remind me aren't practical. Usually those ideas are things like, shave my head and pierce an eyebrow, or throw away all my clothes and start a new wardrobe from scratch. A few weeks ago, I had this wild idea that I could subsist on yogurt and mujadara (a lentil-rice-onion dish) and coffee until the end of my graduate career to save money. It costs about 5 dollars to make a week's worth of mujadara, and I can usually get 2 yogurts for a dollar... but after a couple weeks of doing that, I find that you can't survive on lentils alone. They need to have veggies in them, and sometimes condiments. Condiments are surprisingly expensive, especially the ones I like on my mujadara.
Hierarchy of condiments:
10. Peanut sauce
9. Horseradish
8. Wasabi (like horseradish, only better)
7. Soy sauce
6. Plum sauce
5. Tahini
4. Raita
3. Louisiana hot sauce
2. Teryaki sauce
1. Sriracha
Sriracha is the KING of condiments! Depending on the mood I'm in, raita can go right to the top, or plum sauce, or tahini... But you can put sriracha on anything. Once on Top Chef, Casey the hot chef made sriracha ice cream that failed spectactularly, but I think that if she'd been given enough time, she could have made it work.
Hierarchy of condiments:
10. Peanut sauce
9. Horseradish
8. Wasabi (like horseradish, only better)
7. Soy sauce
6. Plum sauce
5. Tahini
4. Raita
3. Louisiana hot sauce
2. Teryaki sauce
1. Sriracha
Sriracha is the KING of condiments! Depending on the mood I'm in, raita can go right to the top, or plum sauce, or tahini... But you can put sriracha on anything. Once on Top Chef, Casey the hot chef made sriracha ice cream that failed spectactularly, but I think that if she'd been given enough time, she could have made it work.
January 17, 2009
Harry Potter and the TransExtravaganza
I read all the Harry Potter books. I read some twice. I read some three times. They have a special little place in my heart and I don't care if you think that makes me lame. You know what're really lame? The Harry Potter movies.
Last night I headed over to a friend's place to watch Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. Those kids really can't act. It's not so apparent in the first couple of movies because the audience is distracted by how little Dan Radcliffe is and by Alan Rickman's amazing portrayal of Professor Snape. But by this fourth movie, it's pretty obvious that the kids playing Harry and Ron (Emma Watson, i.e. Hermione, can act) are either receiving spectactularly inept direction, or that they have no skills for the director to work with. I vote for the latter, based on their performance in the fifth movie.
While we were watching the movie, I kept thinking about how much better these film adaptations would be if they hadn't taken them so seriously-- I would love to see a campy Harry Potter movie that takes all the semi-adult jokes in the book and expounds upon them, instead of being so plot and action-scene focused. Aside from the obvious jokes about Harry's wand, the movies could be improved simply by adding sparkly makeup to some of the male characters. Maybe the normal version needs to exist as a basis for a future campy movie. Maybe someday the world will be illuminated by the existence of another transvestite-filled musical. I can only pray that, if and when we are so lucky, Alan Rickman will reprise his role as Snape, and that he's willing to wear purple eyeshadow.
I would also like David Bowie to play Voldemort and Jake Gyllenhaal to play Harry, essentially reprising his role from Donnie Darko with the addition of teenage wizardry and a promiscuous romp around Hogwarts with Ron.
Last night I headed over to a friend's place to watch Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. Those kids really can't act. It's not so apparent in the first couple of movies because the audience is distracted by how little Dan Radcliffe is and by Alan Rickman's amazing portrayal of Professor Snape. But by this fourth movie, it's pretty obvious that the kids playing Harry and Ron (Emma Watson, i.e. Hermione, can act) are either receiving spectactularly inept direction, or that they have no skills for the director to work with. I vote for the latter, based on their performance in the fifth movie.
While we were watching the movie, I kept thinking about how much better these film adaptations would be if they hadn't taken them so seriously-- I would love to see a campy Harry Potter movie that takes all the semi-adult jokes in the book and expounds upon them, instead of being so plot and action-scene focused. Aside from the obvious jokes about Harry's wand, the movies could be improved simply by adding sparkly makeup to some of the male characters. Maybe the normal version needs to exist as a basis for a future campy movie. Maybe someday the world will be illuminated by the existence of another transvestite-filled musical. I can only pray that, if and when we are so lucky, Alan Rickman will reprise his role as Snape, and that he's willing to wear purple eyeshadow.
I would also like David Bowie to play Voldemort and Jake Gyllenhaal to play Harry, essentially reprising his role from Donnie Darko with the addition of teenage wizardry and a promiscuous romp around Hogwarts with Ron.
January 10, 2009
Disneyland Nightmare Vacation
This blog got 50 hits yesterday, which sort of blows my mind. One of those hits was for "masklophobia." You may remember my paranoid post in which I lamented my fear of costumed people/animals. I hope that I helped you, anonymous masklophobia researcher, with your investigation of a phobia that has ruined Halloween and all theme parks for me and tens of other neurotic freaks.
A friend of mine recently went to a wedding at Disneyworld. This, too, blows my mind.
weddings + costumed characters = ELYSE'S ULTIMATE HELL
If you're my friend and you get married at Disney, I'll send you a gift and be happy for you, but I'm sorry, I cannot be a part of that. I don't even want to see pictures unless I've had a shot or two of tequila to calm my nerves.
Do you really want Mickey and Minnie on your honeymoon? Their unblinking, soulless eyes would haunt you during your most romantic moments, the shining plastic whites reflecting moonlight ominously within the intimacy of your Epcot marriage suite. All night long, you'll lie awake in fear of the gentle caress of a pair of large, gloved hands up your bare back... you startle as you hear the unmistakable sound of one oversized button slipping from its hole, then another. The giant head leans closer. You begin to scream uncontrollably...
A friend of mine recently went to a wedding at Disneyworld. This, too, blows my mind.
weddings + costumed characters = ELYSE'S ULTIMATE HELL
If you're my friend and you get married at Disney, I'll send you a gift and be happy for you, but I'm sorry, I cannot be a part of that. I don't even want to see pictures unless I've had a shot or two of tequila to calm my nerves.
Do you really want Mickey and Minnie on your honeymoon? Their unblinking, soulless eyes would haunt you during your most romantic moments, the shining plastic whites reflecting moonlight ominously within the intimacy of your Epcot marriage suite. All night long, you'll lie awake in fear of the gentle caress of a pair of large, gloved hands up your bare back... you startle as you hear the unmistakable sound of one oversized button slipping from its hole, then another. The giant head leans closer. You begin to scream uncontrollably...
January 7, 2009
I should write something
Lately I've been a little distracted by re-relocating, social life, and being sick. Here's a distracted update:
It hailed in North Carolina today, which ruined my utopian ideas about the weather. Once, when I was working in Champaign-Urbana, golf ball sized hail was falling. That really freaked me out because that was my "dirt poor" summer, when I couldn't afford to take a bus or buy an umbrella to get to work. I am really glad I wasn't caught out in it, because the hail left big indents on cars in my neighborhood. What did primitive man do when it hailed? Maybe he cursed at the sky and invented religions.
Here's a fact that I want to share with everyone: You don't have to be sick! TRUE STORY, guys. I kept myself from getting sick during winter break by drinking obscene amounts of echinacea tea and taking garlic/lysine pills. Echinacea and lysine are antivirals and garlic is an antibiotic. Every night I would feel myself starting to get sick and I would just load up on homeopathic remedies, and every morning I felt better. I had to do this because listen, people, I only had two and a half weeks to have a social life and there was just not time to be blowing my nose.
I am ready for it to be spring, now, for no other reason than my primitive-woman urge to put on a dress and look pretty in it. I also want to watch some animals MATING, baby! I have yet to espy squirrel sex, and I cannot die until I do.
It hailed in North Carolina today, which ruined my utopian ideas about the weather. Once, when I was working in Champaign-Urbana, golf ball sized hail was falling. That really freaked me out because that was my "dirt poor" summer, when I couldn't afford to take a bus or buy an umbrella to get to work. I am really glad I wasn't caught out in it, because the hail left big indents on cars in my neighborhood. What did primitive man do when it hailed? Maybe he cursed at the sky and invented religions.
Here's a fact that I want to share with everyone: You don't have to be sick! TRUE STORY, guys. I kept myself from getting sick during winter break by drinking obscene amounts of echinacea tea and taking garlic/lysine pills. Echinacea and lysine are antivirals and garlic is an antibiotic. Every night I would feel myself starting to get sick and I would just load up on homeopathic remedies, and every morning I felt better. I had to do this because listen, people, I only had two and a half weeks to have a social life and there was just not time to be blowing my nose.
I am ready for it to be spring, now, for no other reason than my primitive-woman urge to put on a dress and look pretty in it. I also want to watch some animals MATING, baby! I have yet to espy squirrel sex, and I cannot die until I do.
January 2, 2009
How did I get here?
Sometimes I ask the question philosophically, pondering the purpose of my own life and fate. Sometimes I use it to retrace the actions leading to a mistake to understand and prevent a future recurrence. Sometimes, today, I ask the question out of pure flabberghastery.
This morning I had some ideas that I wanted to record, and I have zillions of notebooks here leftover from high school days. As I looked for the most empty one, I found an old paper I'd written as a sophomore in Ancient World History. It's a fictional narrative of someone's life in Athens, Greece. My teacher for that class was a dumb jock, fresh out of college, whose ego was greater than his grasp of any intellectual concept. We did not get along. Memories of him came flooding back to me.
One morning before class, he had written "You're tests are graded" on the blackboard. I was in class first so I corrected his grammar. He told me to keep it to myself because it was none of my business if he wanted to write things incorrectly. Later in the semester, after I had neglected to do his busywork homework bullshit for the 50th day in a row, he threw a stapler on my desk in outrage. Honestly, it probably is annoying if your students blatantly reject your pedantry as pointless wastes of time, but it's also annoying to be the 16 year old victim of a grammar gimp.
A Ramble Through Athens is a five page, double-spaced, piece of junk final project that I probably spat out in about an hour one night after schmoozing on the phone with my boyfriend for two hours. I do not attest to the overall quality of the essay; my grade indicates that I got a 42/45. There are no comments on the entire essay besides this one. I wrote,
"The agora is a busy, crowded place in the morning, especially when public discussions are being held there. It teems with life, the smells of food, and shouts of vendors with their produce."
He crossed out the 'e' in teems and wrote an 'a' above it.
HOW DID I GET INTO COLLEGE HAVING EDUCATORS LIKE THIS!? I had a lot of good ones to make up for it, apparently. Thanks to Mrs B, Ms J, Mr M, Mrs D, and Mrs K.
This morning I had some ideas that I wanted to record, and I have zillions of notebooks here leftover from high school days. As I looked for the most empty one, I found an old paper I'd written as a sophomore in Ancient World History. It's a fictional narrative of someone's life in Athens, Greece. My teacher for that class was a dumb jock, fresh out of college, whose ego was greater than his grasp of any intellectual concept. We did not get along. Memories of him came flooding back to me.
One morning before class, he had written "You're tests are graded" on the blackboard. I was in class first so I corrected his grammar. He told me to keep it to myself because it was none of my business if he wanted to write things incorrectly. Later in the semester, after I had neglected to do his busywork homework bullshit for the 50th day in a row, he threw a stapler on my desk in outrage. Honestly, it probably is annoying if your students blatantly reject your pedantry as pointless wastes of time, but it's also annoying to be the 16 year old victim of a grammar gimp.
A Ramble Through Athens is a five page, double-spaced, piece of junk final project that I probably spat out in about an hour one night after schmoozing on the phone with my boyfriend for two hours. I do not attest to the overall quality of the essay; my grade indicates that I got a 42/45. There are no comments on the entire essay besides this one. I wrote,
"The agora is a busy, crowded place in the morning, especially when public discussions are being held there. It teems with life, the smells of food, and shouts of vendors with their produce."
He crossed out the 'e' in teems and wrote an 'a' above it.
HOW DID I GET INTO COLLEGE HAVING EDUCATORS LIKE THIS!? I had a lot of good ones to make up for it, apparently. Thanks to Mrs B, Ms J, Mr M, Mrs D, and Mrs K.
January 1, 2009
Happy New Year!
Hopefully everyone reading this blog had the New Years Eve they wanted. I went out for the first time since high school! I typically experience unwanted emotional boycott of collective effervescences and don't want the pressure of going out, but this year I sucked it up and decided to have fun anyway. And I did.
Next year I want to
Next year I want to
- start running again and do yoga
- spend less money on food and more money on clothing
- be more social so I can be more productive during non-social time. It works for me; I'm just an antisocial person and can't help but stay home alone when I have the chance
- drink more water
- read more, read more, read more
- not cut my hair
- write more, write more, write more
- listen to awesome music
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