Homecoming 2K5

I should start off by letting Alida know that I know now that her name is not Adina. That was my bad. And as soon as I said it, I thought, "Shit. Why is she making that face at me? What did I say? That's not her name! What's her name?!" I forgot. And I was not drunk. I'm just an ass.
And that was just in my first hour.
Later, we toasted St. Joe, each other, and the guy who stole Mo's car. And the officer who found it the next state over: "You may want to bring an air freshener. It stinks. Have a nice night."
It was replete with drinks (oh, how we drank), dancing (oh, how we danced), and an unexplained injury (a nearly fatal splinter was removed thanks to Jay's impromtu car key surgery).
Thanks to all who made last night possible, including Mary's floor and Mary's roommates' blankets and Mary, herself, who was totally unsurprised when I asktold her that I was staying overnight.

All Points Bulletin

Carly de Soleil
Originally uploaded by Sriracha.

Carly tried on this mask last night and ran off with the Cirque. The last time I saw, she was running into the Big Top with the tumbling men.
Please.
There's no reward, but if you find her, you can stay around while she tells the story of her capture.

Caffeine Low

I'm on a Just Say No Self-Inflicted Caffeine Probation, so I skipped my Diet Coke today. My head was throbbing and I wanted drugs. I started asking around. I mimed looking through purses and my eyebrows were knit together. I put one hand up to my forehead.

Me: Aspirin?
Her: No, thanks. I'm good.

(pause, then a discrete whisper)

Carly: Is she drunk?
Me: No, just stupid.
Carly: Huh?
Me: Stupid.
Carly: Oh. Wow.

Mad Cow Ramblings

We were at Cory's house tonight, enjoying the last touches of summer: babies, barbeque, and [b]eachother's company, when I announced that I was feeling queasy. He had undercooked the burgers and they were juicing. Siiiick. Suddenly, Rin was all, "You do that all the time," and I was all, "Nuh-uh. Wait. Yeah, I guess I do. But I feel sick a lot," and Cory was all, "It's probably dipepsioxycontinateulcer, and it's exacerbated by caffeine intake." Sure. Kill me with your uncooked meat, and then redeem yourself by saving my intestines from future dypepsiaxic disorder.
I retreated from my Diet Coke as he and Heidi and everyone there diagnosed me with hyperulcernucleicacid inflammation of the nauseous or something. So I said I'd go a few days without caffeine, just
1. because I can. I'm no bitch of caffeine's. Caffeine doesn't own me. And,
2. because I do feel sick to my stomach--even when it's not a Big Day.* And,
3. because I haven't ever actually vomited from it, but what if I did? What if I was the one caffeine chose to make an example of and then I died of dipepsidACiosityness?!!

*Editor's note: I've never done that before** This is my first self-referencing with link EVER.
**Editor's note: Not that I can remember, anyway

School Spirit: Decades Day

I carefully extrapolated the following exchange and have determined that half our students are learning something:

Tomorrow I'm dressing up as a puritan, I'm so pumped.
A what?
I'm so pumped!
A what?
A puritan. Pure-ih-tan?

Next lesson: Defining Words or, How About I Say It More Slowly?

Six Year Old Smile

Matt and Aquaducts
Originally uploaded by Sriracha.

Matt is so...excited...Friday...
Poof.
Two other items:
1. Time travel, as I mentioned yesterday would be mentioned later: voila. I'm reading The Time Traveler's Wife for book club and I'm telling you I am too into this book. I thought I saw the character out for a run the other day. Help. Fictitious characters are coming to life for me.
2. I forgot two because I was thinking about the time traveling book.

Solstice Song

Yesterday was the last day of summer. To celebrate (I like to do all of my celebrating belatedly), I went to see my friend, John Richards. He makes great summer music.
[time warp*]
A few years ago, I was way into John Mayer: rocking out in my college dorm, stalking him at the Quest, etc, etc. He has this song, "Comfortable". So relatable. I mean, I wear gray sweatpants, no make-up, so per-fect...our love was...comf'terbehhhl and so brokehhhn innn.
Ahem.
So as I'm loving this song and making up stories about our future together, I discover that it's not about me. It's not about anyone. I am wounded and ANGRY. A love song for no one in particular? That is careless misuse of melty sweet lyrics.
[time warp again]
I didn't want to risk disappointment again. I told Richards I had to know if Checkout Girl was about a real girl. And it is. Swoon. A girl he liked from afar, and years later from up close. Listen.

*More about time traveling later

Lost in Translation (and more bad stuff happening to animals)

Stafford is in Japan this year, blogging the hmmms he sees. This post inspired me.
I had a glorious few examples from my recent jaunt to Europa.
1. A t-shirt with the words "I'm Rockstar!"
2. A survey (click on the picture below because there are such mistakes that you wouldn't believe me if I typed them out for you).

3. The conversation with the Pasternaks (our host family in Wolfratzhausen):
Manfred P: We have much to do with ourself because we have become retired. We keep the gardening, and the rabbits.
Betty: Oh! Are they pets?
Manfred P: (confused look)
Betty: Do you eat them?
Me: (laughing) Betty! God! No, they don't eat them.
Manfred P: (still confused)
Betty: Are they food?
Manfred P: Oh! Yes.
Me: (horrified)

On the Further Mistreatment of Animals

I poke
Originally uploaded by Sriracha.

This picture is from our trip to Munich (pronounced: Moonch-Moonchies), Land of the Lion. It's in Bavaria and the crest blahblahblah...There are about 8000 lions in the city and they are all painted to reflect blahblahblah... This one was far too decorative and I felt it warranted a poke in the glassy eyeball.

In Defense of Territory

We spent the better part of the afternoon setting traps and watching for chipmunks. They make this incredibly irritating noise, this gutteral chirp, and it maddens my father. It's the reason that he bought the trap.
He came out and showed me how to set it with a little peanut butter between two tortilla chips so it doesn't get the trap all gunky.
An hour later, there he was. Chip Munk.
We took Chip down the street to the park and dropped him off behind the hockey rink. The idea was to trick Chip into running directly into the abundant woods before him.
He veered right.
Right back toward our house.
"Not that way! Dammit."
Poppa turns to me: "Issat gonna make it into the blog?"
I nod.