If You're Making Those in Triplicate, I'll Take The Pink Copy

Three related statements in no particular order:

1. I keep going out of town to escape the pooling water in our sink.
2. Avoidance is totally legitimate way of dealing with your problems.
3. Took the annual ski trip last weekend and returned to a sink so clogged that in the time it takes for Michael Scott to brush his teeth you need a canoe to leave the bathroom.

Three unrelated statements in a very particular order:

1. The last time (see also: only time) I created a meal from scratch(ish), I had garlic hands for several days.
2. Matt's older than me by 31 days which means he's had extra time to learn how to wear a coat and hat and get a jumper cable box. Yet. Here's what it sounds like when he calls: "Kbabes, my car is dead. Can you come get me? Aaaack! It's cold! It's so colllllld. Gaaaahhhh! I'm dead. I'm actually dead right now." So I win with my weather preparations, but he wins at being able to use a cell phone while dead.
3. My friend Halsey and I are teaching high school students how to do improv. They are hysterical in the traditional "You're funny" and the not-as-traditional "I'm laughing at you" sense. For you scientists out there.
   

Glossy Finish

Matt had a party last night at his studio. Why weren't you there? An hour isn't enough notice for you?
Photographers from around the cities converged around hummus and archival prints. It was all very sweet. The "artist" two studio doors down spent most of the evening interrupting conversation with his loud chiseling. His name is Zoron or Borflat or Hotel Balkan or something.
I stopped outside his door on my way to the bathroom and tried to peer in, with a mind to invite him to come have a beverage, or take the rest of the night off--please.
In the romantic-comedy version of this event, he opens the door into my face and as I tumble backward I throw my wine on his good meeting suit, making him late to meet the backers of his next big sculpture (enormous mucus-shaped rock (upright)).
In the reality version, I overhear that he is listening to angry art music. I change my mind about inviting him into the party: he's probably not good with humans. As I slip into the bathroom, he opens the door all mumbly "grind your bones to make my bread."
Fine, Dude. Your loss. Who wants to share their beer with the guy at the top of the beanstalk, anyway?

Johnny Cash Shot One

Hairdryers scare me. They make loud noises and distract you from the floor-creaking murderers outside the bathroom. Also, couldn't I maybe suffer serious hearing loss? Hello, Señor Anxiety. Nice to see you again. Can I offer you some Triscuits?
Today I got to thinking that if I were a man in Reno, I would probably just move.

Still Doesn't Explain Why, Though

A picture from last night's adventure in an attic on the North side. These treacherous stairs were lined with loosely-arranged wooden planks. Safety first, I say.

Sweet and Low

Breaking the Ice
Take as many Skittles as you want...Now you have to tell everyone something about yourself for as many Skittles as you took. I spend the rest of the meeting giggling loudly, accidentally at inappropriate moments. Every time I make eye contact and talk about financial aid. Situational poverty! Ba-dum-pum-tsssss!
I return to my office with a stomachache and fumble around for the water bottle. Coming down off my sugar high; hit my head on the desk. Hard.
Funky, Funky
Look out for me, I am on the Warpath of Boredom. Rampant mediocrity (and a minor concussion) is forcing me into battle. Last two days spent almost entirely in pursuit of passion. Somebody, somewhere give me something to get excited about. I talk to a kid today who is so relentlessly positive, I almost follow her to her next class.
Living in a Dan Wilson Song
When my phone is on vibrate, the alarm seems somehow less threatening. Buzz, buzz, my friend. Time to wake up for that meeting you'd rather skip. What is threatening:

• small children with adult features,
• the name Brenda,
• working in a job funded by grant money,
• not working
• a Skittleless world
  

Late to the Party

Please be warned: if you use your college degree to legitimize arguments, some day you will be working with a high school student whose degree is not yet earned, and you will get into a debate about the definition of a word.
You will be wrong. Inflammable does not mean what you think it means.

You may later use this information to make other adults feel stupid. It will be totally worth it. Especially in public.

For His Maybe Trip to Tanzania

Matt's learning Swahili from this guy. At first I was all, "Wow. I wish somebody could just explain Swahili to me clearly. I mean what is it really?" And then I just read the helpful introduction:

First of all, is it “Swahili” or “Kiswahili”? It’s both! It’s “Swahili” if you say it in English, and “Kiswahili” if you say it in Swahili. The following example will make it more clear. The language spoken in France is “French” in English, “Francais” in French, and “Kifaransa” in Swahili. Calling the language spoken in Tanzania, “Kiswahili”, while speaking in English is like calling the language spoken in France, “Francais”, while speaking in Swahili instead of “Kifaransa”.

Funfetti In Your Glass

Obvious Resolutions:

• take hip hop classes
  
• be even more awesome than previous year (subjective, attainable)
  
• eat healthier (perfectly aspecific)
  
• not dish it if I can't take it (vague)
  
• get my business in order (nebulous)
  

Less Obvious Resolutions

• not find naked strangers in my bed when I return home after being out celebrating New Year's at Nate and Jill's house.
  
• stop answering the question "how are you?" with "fine" (even if it's true)
  
• adopt a passable Bostonian accent