Neighborly Love

Long time no talk. Have you missed me?

Don’t answer that.

Needless to say, my life has been more than a bit of a ride lately. I’m thoroughly back into the swing of life here at Crunchy College. Want a crash course update?

Alright. But before we begin I just want to make sure everyone is seating with their safety belts fastened. Please keep your hands inside at all times.

Here we go, kids.

Things with Misfit have settled down. That’s due in part because I stopped thinking like a little girl at a candy store and in part because he stopped taking off his shirt and trying to climb on top of me. So it appears now that we’re just trying to be friends. It is actually working quite well, especially since I’ve recently become friendly with some of his friends—Taco*, Bearded**, and Uncensored***. Those budding friendships have worked out quite nicely for Misfit and I because we’re no longer stuck in the small, far too cerebral box we had been in.

Westchester is also joining in on a bit of the new friend fun with Taco and Uncensored. Her and Uncensored have taken a bit of an infatuation with each other. I wouldn’t categorize it as “like,” because neither of them are the other’s type. But for the time being they’re enjoying things. And as long as it doesn’t go much further I’m happy to sit back in Taco and my vomit nest and watch movies while they giggle and coo.

Rugby season is in full swing now with at least one game almost every weekend.

And we’re back into all our old traditions—Hello Jello, socialing, checking out the opposing men, and playing with puppies while people knock the shit out of each other.

It wasn’t long into the first rugby weekend that I realized my endurance has gone to hell. What happened to the girl that could eat a bowl of oatmeal, drink all day, pass out for a couple of hours, then wake up and drink all night? I miss her. There won’t be a game this weekend, but I’m not too terribly broken up about it. We’re out of jello mix anyway.

The Minimalist and I are still thick as thieves. Sometimes, when I really think about it, I get far too freaked out. Sometimes, like after I leave his humble abode, I feel all warm and fuzzy inside. But regardless of any fuzziness I may be feeling there will be no FaceSpace titles coming anytime soon. Well, unless they suddenly create a “fucking” or “following around” one. We decided the day those pop up we’ll make it official.

But that seems unlikely anytime soon. So in the mean time we’re just doing what we do best—drinking too much, engaging in PDA, bickering, and being disgustingly cute. And while I’m sure most trained mental health professionals would say this isn’t the healthiest type of relationship for, the Minimalist doesn’t object and he is in the process of becoming a trained mental health professional. That counts, right?

Oh, and I’m also going to classes. Three classes plus the paper makes me a very busy, very caffeinated girl. I’m falling in love with French, getting slightly burnt out with editing, and managing to hold my own in a probably too advanced English class. I’m getting into the thick of midterms, which is the time every semester that I first question the value of a college degree and think it would just be easier to sell weed for the rest of my life. I’ve also recently started watching old episodes of Weeds, so that could have something to do with it, also.

Either way, my days are slightly less fun than they should be right now. But don’t worry, kids, because my nights are still plenty fun. And plenty wine-tastic.

*Taco-my neighbor who has a love of virgins and the ability to nuzzle like a puppy.

**Bearded-another neighbor, this one tall and slightly mysterious. And he has an extensive sweater collection.

***Uncensored-yet another neighbor. This is has a love of hardcore music, skinny jeans, and scary movies.

Score So Many

Sorry for leaving you hanging there for a while, kiddos. But this little co-ed had some business to attend to.

And what do I mean by business?

Setting up (what is in the process of becoming) my awesome swinging bachelorette pad. And I call it that for many reasons: we have a giant beanbag chair, there is literally a Carmen Electra “exercise” pole in the center, we will soon be getting a purple shag rug, and the obvious, all 8 of us are unmarried ladies.

Which brings me to business number 2—bonding with my ‘mates. There are some of the old cast of characters—Westchester, Ginger, Hookar, and Nickname (formally Roomie-Dearest)—but there are also some new faces—Spacey*, Homegirl**, and CC***.

After spending a very long day moving in Saturday we needed to kick up our heels. What better way to do that, and bond in the process, than by popping some champagne, inviting over a few friends and playing a rousing game of Never Have I Ever.

But this wasn’t your grandmother’s NHIE. In this instance you drank if you hadn’t done it (because we hate to exclude people). Needless to say, everyone enjoyed themselves.

And we enjoyed ourselves at the bonfire, all the while drinking, finding friends, and checking out this year’s crop of first-years freshmen. There were 2 that stuck out to me: a boy that “made moves” and a girl with little more than marriage on the brain.

Should make for an interesting class.

Sunday dawned bright and early, with my usual inability to sleep past 9. It was a day full of little consequence (unless you count figuring out that I could never support myself as a stripper) until I started getting ready for bed.

Let me preface this recount by saying that I had known all day that the Minimalist would be coming back Sunday. I had known for a week. But not wanting to be That Girl, I didn’t contact him, nor did I have any intention to until Monday.

But there came a point, as I was “exercising”, that my phone buzzed. Much to my surprise, it was the Minimalist wanting to see me. I’ll skip the details, but when I finally laid myself down to sleep he was right next to me in my bed.

This is the first time in far too long that I’ve had a man-boy in my bed. And it is the straight up first time there has been one in my college bed. Needless to say, I was mildly freaking out (and not just because my comforter was askew in the duvet cover and my baby blanket was floating around somewhere).

The man-boy that I liked was in my bed! In my room! This was uncharted territory. But I certainly didn’t mind. I slept like a baby…until my 7:45 alarm.

Yup, 8:30 class twice a week. M’favorite.

The Minimalist left on his walk of shame back to his new house and I rushed out to a full day of classes and meetings and whatnot.

And now I’m dead tired, but beyond happy. With everything.

And I just heard this weekend is a rugby weekend.

Score so many for sophomore year.

*Spacey-a girl with a love of drunk dancing and a slight inability to follow most trains of thought.

**Homegirl-she can only be described as nice, because she is (though I sense a bit of a wild streak waiting to come out).

***CC-short for Community College, where she went last year. And while she is wonderfully chill, she also appears to be testing her new, out of state waters.

Dog Barf

Sorry for my absences recently (I feel like I’m saying that a lot). I’ve been…somewhere doing something I’m sure. At the moment I feel like dog barf.

Why dog barf?

Because you know what’s in shit. You know what caused shit. Dog barf, on the other hand, is a complete mystery.

I’m chalking it up to a good ole fashioned hangover and blaming warm beer, keg beer, unset Hello Jello, vodka and old tequila mixed, and a little bit of Hennessy plus a night of dancing, getting sweated and stepped on (hello possibly re-broken foot. Is this the 3^rd or 4^th time we’ve met?), too many cookies and not enough water, and my constant state of stress and sleeplessness for my current state of dog barf.

I even look a little like dog barf.

Yes, I did just take that this morning. Yes, I am still wearing last night’s dress.

If you can’t tell, yesterday was a rugby day, hence the Hello Jello.

Unfortunately, I made this batch on Friday night after having a drink or two so I think (and by think I mean definitely) I added too much Hello (vodka). That threw off the delicate scientific balance that is Hello Jello and I wound up with it on my hands the next morning when I went to take it out before the game.

It later got drank through a straw (bad idea).

From there I went to an off-campus party with some friends (including Arch Enemy). I danced. I drank. I’m pretty sure I had a nip slip or three. And Arch Enemy proposed…with my own ring. It fit perfectly, though (imagine that), so I took it as a sign and said yes. I think we’re going to Vegas after finals.

Rewind who knows how long.

I lost/blacked out and hid my purse containing my school ID and room key. So I’ve been living off the grid for a week now. The Minimalist’s parents were in town so we spent another Sunday afternoon at his brother’s house with them. The difference this time, though, was that Sunday became Monday and we hadn’t left yet. Him and I ended up sharing a quickly deflating air mattress in the living room after I ate ham

(super duper bad idea, I was sick till Wednesday), drank whiskey and had a heart to heart with his father. Yup, I’m that kind of girl.

We also went to dinner with them on Friday, though that meal was far less exciting. The only story-worthy happening was his father practically dancing on the table to the Indian music videos that were playing.

And his mother, who hates me less, invited me to Vermont in August. I, of course, intend to block out that commitment for the next couple of months.

I’m sure some other things have happened since I last wrote, but the only other noteworthy thing I can think of is…

I got an internship!

An awesome internship!

The greatest internship ever!

I’m going to be writing (yes, actually writing all by myself) a column for a food and culture magazine in my Dirty Dirty town.

What will this column be on?

The vegetarian and vegan food scene, of course!

Talk about made to order perfect.

I’m jazzed beyond belief and can’t wait to get home and start eating. And I don’t really have to wait that long to get home because May 6th is the magic day.

Yup, just 11 short days before my freshman year is over. And now I’m hyperventilating.

Off to find a paper bag to breath/barf into.

Shockers

Oh boy, oh berto! This weekend was a doozy. Not a bad doozy. A jam-packed doozy.

It started on Friday when, after a super scrumptious lunch, Westchester and I had to run to my room, grab a bag-full-o-booze, and run out to meet the Minimalist and Country to head off to a men’s rugby game a few towns away. The ride was an hour and a half of nonstop old rap, including Country dancing so hard the car was accelerating randomly.

Upon arriving at the pitch I chugged 2 beers while Country held me at knifepoint. I shit you not.

I watched a little bit of the game, but the real action for me was in the car. Not my car, mind you. GoodMan had lent us his car for the evening. And by action, I mean hibidy-bibidy. Hanky-panky. Yup, the Minimalist and I did the horizontal tango in the backseat of GoodMan’s car. And the icing on the cake…

We got caught! HA!

I’m not sure how long people were watching, but suddenly the Minimalist jumped up, which caused me to look up and realize that Country, Cesar, Roomie, and a couple of other rugby fans had their faces smooshed to the glass. Upon putting my pants back on and exiting the car, I took a bow.

Because, honestly what else could I have done?

Saturday brought some lovely weather and an afternoon spent lying in the grass. Hippie-dippy says, love.

I’m thoroughly enjoying the hints of spring that have been popping up. Including the lovely trees that are blooming around campus.

My evening was spent drinking a water bottle full of vodka and ginger ale (a delicious combination) at Big Baby’s house. He hasn’t had people over in quite a while so everyone was there, which I thoroughly enjoyed. Most of my time was spent watching the beer pong games, in which a handful of my Republican friends were dominating. They weren’t so absorbed in their play so that all of them couldn’t hit on me, including utilizing an adorable beagle puppy.

Yup, they went there.

The highlight of my night, though, came at the very end. As I was filing out the door with the other people in the car, I passed Asshole*. We’ve hung out a handful of times. We’ve talked. We’ve laughed. He’s insulted me to my face. But nothing terribly noteworthy. Until I said g’bye to him. That’s when the unthinkable happened. Something I had never seen in general, certainly not with me.

He hugged me.

This is huge! Especially since earlier in the night he had a freshman climbing a light post to avoid being shot by him with a BB gun.

It may not sound like a big deal, but it’s really boggled me.

Could this mean that I am actually being completely accepted by the inner circle? Or maybe he was just off his rocker drunk?

I’ll never know.

*Asshole-a “dear” friend of the Minimalist’s who is infamous for his ability to offend, degrade and thoroughly belittle anybody and everybody he comes into contact with. But he’s a great guy, because he treats everyone equally.

Serendipity

Serendipity was ah-maze-ing!

We were serendipitous enough to have perfect weather—75-80 and sunny. And I was serendipitous enough to have plenty of beer.

^A suitcase was the only way to sneak two cases into my building.^

Unfortunately, Twin wasn’t able to come. She now has adult responsibilities (rent) to think about.

Friday afternoon I woke from a nap in the grass to the smells of a lovely cookout hosted by dining services. Westchester, Newbie, Peru* and I nommed on grilled goodies (including veggie burgers) on the lawn before grabbing a bag full of beer and Roomie-Dearest and heading off to watch the male ruggers beat the shit out of each other. A guy from the other team got K.O.ed. The sound of his head hitting something could be heard at the other end of the pitch.

After that beating they definitely deserved the night of drinking that followed. Unfortunately, PSafe were out in full force and Roomie got written up for drinking. Once people had had enough of the 5-0 we migrated to the woods to finish the keg the Minimalist and co had started earlier in the day. Both Westchester and Roomie found someone new to swap spit with. And apparently so did GoodMan’s girl, because when I saw him at the end of the night he had a broken hand and an empty bottle of Juager. From what I hear, breaking bones is a Serendipity tradition of his.

Saturday was by far more glorious than Friday. The ruggirls played a great game. I drank a High Life while acting as touch judge.

Then I drank another High Life while watching ruggirls and guys Jello wrestle.

Roomie got in on it, but I abstained.

Once I saw the Jello (and the used Band Aid that was floating in it) I decided that I would let others have the fun. And expose their bits and pieces.

I instead, opted for the rock wall. It turns out that I can climb like a monkey.

The highlight of scheduled events came later in the night when Man Man played a rossome show. I’m not a Man Man listener and after the show I probably won’t start. Don’t get me wrong, they were great live, but I feel like they’re probably a band best live. I just don’t see how they could transfer that energy to a recording.

Speaking of energy, by this point I had been running on 3 or 4 hours of sleep for about 12 hours. I was on the verge of being exhausted. So I drank a 5 Hour Energy shot thinking it would keep me going till the sun came up. Nope. It didn’t do shit.

I ran back to my room to grab my drinky drink (and devour 2/3 a package of Hello Jello) and headed to the Olds thinking that my night was still young. I was having a great time (which included chatting it up with some PSafe officers and RAs) with all intents of hitting up at least 2 or 3 more parties.

Nope. Once the Olds got busted we headed back to the Minimalist and Cesar’s apartment to re-group, restock and figure out a game plan. This is about the time I blacked out. The darkest black. But Roomie tells me we hung out there for a little and then went home to bed while everyone else kept going.

That disappoints me.

Fuck 5 Hour Energy.

And now it’s a rainy Sunday afternoon. I’m currently doing laundry and reading myself for a double date with the Minimalist, his best friend, ManLove**, and ManLove’s lady friend, Babs***.

Overall, I think this weekend has been a success. Sure, I didn’t trip like a lot of people do. I didn’t wake up somewhere in someone else’s clothes with no recognition of how I got there or even where I was. I didn’t accomplish some impressive feat of alcohol consumption (unless you count me eating almost an entire Hello Jello in under 10 minutes). But I don’t do that. Instead I drank a lot, met a bunch of people (most of whom I don’t quite remember), had some great sex, and got hit on by a girl.

I’ve often worried that my freshman year won’t be as wild and crazy as other people’s. That I won’t have the stories, scars or police records that seem to qualify how great your year was. But that’s not me. I may go a little crazy sometimes, but for the most part I’m a level-headed girl. And for the most part I’m okay with that.

*Pure- a nice little straight-edge Peruvian boy.

**ManLove-the Minimalist’s best friend and freshman roommate. He no longer goes here (and isn’t supposed to leave his state) so a visit from him is a treat.

***Babs-a ruggirl from the Dirty Dirty who has been dating ManLove long distance for quite a while.

Counting the Days

Praise Jesus and Allah and all their cousins!

At approximately 11:07AM I walked out of my last midterm into relative freedom. Spring break is still a few days away, but those few days will be filled with readings and short write-ups, not hours spent clicking through art history slides until I can’t close my eyes without seeing pictures of Transitional, Early and Late Classical Roman statues. No longer will I drive the Minimalist out of his own bed by listing off Egyptian tombs and artifacts.

^Imhotep, the stepped tomb of King Djoser from the Old Kingdom in Egpyt^

You know what I’m doing instead?

Reading interview transcripts of Quaker Conscientious Objectors during WW1 who volunteered to be semi-starved so the government could study starvation and rehabilitation. Creepy, right?

^Here’s one of the participants.^

Only slightly better than comparing cave paintings, but at least it’s something different.

Speaking of something different, there have been a few changes around the ole dormstead:

My rugby season has ended early. Very early.

It started when I would get short of breath at practice. I’ve always gotten short of breath (especially during sprints), but this was more than normal. I chocked it up to getting out of shape over Christmas break. Well, practice continued and my ability to breath continued to get worse. Very counterintuitive. So after spending the last part of far too many practices standing on the sidelines trying to get rid of the spots that were clouding my vision a equally-asthmatic ruggirl suggested that the cold must be aggravating my asthma.

Hell, the cold was aggravating all of me, but no other parts of my body were refusing to work. Damn asthma.

A week or so later a doctor confirmed the diagnosis and prescribed A) lots and lots of medicine (mainly steroids) that make it nearly impossible to eat soup, climb into bed and other things that require stability OR B) no more outdoor activity until the weather warmed. As much as I lovelovelove rugby I wasn’t willing to put myself through more meds just for the slim chance that they wouldn’t sap all my energy and I would be able to play.

So I’ve gone from bruise-sporting ruggirl to support staff. I carry water bottles, pump up balls, and keep time. Far less fun, but at least I’m not ditching the team like other girls.

I’m also trying veganism.

Why, you (and Mother) ask?

Why the hell not!

(To which Mother responded that I looked thinner than normal in some recent pictures. Mother has thought I have an aversion to food practically since I started making my own food choices. Me? An aversion to food? Really? Exhibit A: FoodBaby)

But frankly, I’m always up for a challenge. And anything involving food always peaks my interest. So with a little help from Fresh Market, a large handful of vegan blogs (especially Peas and Thank You), and the vegan station in the dining hall I’ll be saying “veganize me, Cap’n” for the rest of the week.

For the last few days of this little foodventure I’ll be on…Spring Break! Woohoo!

Roomie-Dearest, Frenchie, Mr. Jackson and Westchester are all accompanying me to Vagina Bitch for a week of drinking, me cooking amazingly wonderful and healthy food, and relaxation. Maybe 1 or 2 other things thrown in there, but you’ll just have to wait and be surprised about those.

The Minimalist and his crew are going to the mountains for their break. I was invited to go (and I know it would be ah-maze-ingly fun), but I kind of want to do my own thing (don’t take that as a sign of problems. Everything is better than ever. I promise.) And I don’t know if we could handle each other for a week straight. No need to put undo stress on our lovely little arrangement. (Though their house rental ends early, so he may come up with a friend anyway.)

So until Friday, when my posse and I get to escape the little brick boxes we live in, I’ll continue reading about starvation (while snacking on trail mix, of course) and dreaming of the free laundry and bathtub that awaits me.

Family Bonding

Despite the fact that my room is in shambles (and Roomie-Dearest seems to have a complete aversion to cleaning it) this has been a truly amazing weekend. The amazingness of this weekend started way back when at the beginning of the semester when the Minimalist lamented that he was yet to meet my family. My little wheels got to turning and within a few days an invitation for a visit was extended to Papa and co and Brother. They agreed, a weekend was picked, and I began scouring the city for restaurants and activities with which to impress my visitors. And I began nervously anticipating the dinner at which the Minimalist and Papa would meet.

When Friday finally rolled around I almost couldn’t contain my excitement. Papa and co arrived from the north around 4 and headed straight to the hotel. Brother arrived from the south around 6 and headed straight to my (horribly and embarrassingly messy) dorm. From there he used his newly acquired Legal Drinker status to load him and up with beer (a 24oz of Fosters and a 6-pack of Dale’s Pale Ale for him, a 6-pack of Rolling Rock and a 6-pack of Natty Green’s Guilford Golden Ale for Westchester and I to split, and a 6-pack of Heineken for Roomie-Dearest) for all the weekend’s festivities.

From there we returned to campus in time to meet Papa and co outside (he would not be seeing my dorm if I had anything to do about it) for dinner. We went to a design-your-own pizza place, where we caught up, ate too much bread, I saw a picture of Papa shooting Das Boot and began planning our summer vacation. (We’re thinking Paris during the Tour de France.)

After dinner I spent some time at a party at the Olds* with the Minimalist, Westchester and Hookar** before retiring to my bed, thoroughly exhausted and eagerly anticipating Saturday.

Why was I so excited about Saturday, you’re probably wondering?

It was going to be the perfect day, of course!

Why is that, you ask?

It was a men’s rugby day, not a men’s and women’s rugby day. This meant 1) I could watch the game with all my friends, 2) I could social with all my friends (and the social would be better since it was the only one) and 3) I wouldn’t have to explain to Papa why I wasn’t playing in the women’s game (I’ve decided to leave him out of the loop for now concerning my little breathing problems).

Before the game the fam and I hit up a little lunch shop that I’d been wanting to try for some nom-ables and Harris Teeter for a 12-pack of Yeungling bottles and Solo cups so we could have a classy family tailgate.

It was so silly to me to be drinking in public with Papa, especially since he knew it was against the rules at school and I was the one that suggested the beer. I guess I’m becoming an adult.

After the game (which we won) Papa and co returned to the hotel while Brother stayed behind for some good rugby-day festivities. First, though, we loaded up on good beer from my room. Why drink Busch when you don’t have to?

The social was great fun! Brother fit in nicely with my friends (and got to meet the Minimalist in a less formal environment, which I think is part of the reason they got along so great). He enjoyed the songs, saw 3 people shoot the boot and was thoroughly amused by the sustainable living-themed house the social was hosted at.

Before we knew it, it was 6 (reservations at 7) so I had to dash back, change into a pre-determined outfit, try to rid myself of the beer stench, grab the Minimalist and drive Brother’s car (he was too tipsy) downtown to meet the rest of our party for dinner.

This was it! All the weeks of planning and dreading; all my worries about big steps and how everyone would get along, it was all for this moment, when Papa opened the hotel door and they got to meet my man.

Luckily, everything went swimmingly. Hell, it was fucking perfect. Brother was feeling loose and thus able to keep the mood light. Papa and co was nice. The Minimalist was pleasant and charming. The food was great. And we even held hands as we walked through the hotel at the end of the night (he’s become surprisingly and wonderfully affectionate lately). Like I said…perfection.

Originally, Brother was supposed to return to campus with me to attend a bonfire spurred on by the perfect weather. But after a full day of drinking he was spent, so he stayed behind, much to the dismay of the Minimalist and his friends (who seemed to quite like Brother at the social).

Despite the weather being (relatively) amazing and no other known parties that night the bonfire wasn’t as much of a screaming success as they usually are. That was probably part of the reason that, come 1:30am when I was tired and my toe were numb and I said that I was going to head back to civilization and suggested to the Minimalist that he follow, he didn’t give me his usual reason for declining—that he, being one of the people throwing the bonfire, was responsible for cleaning up and putting out the fire at the end. This time he simply found another host to man the bar and together we stumbled down the dark, uneven path towards campus.

The perfect end to the perfect day—me curled up with the Minimalist in his warm bed watching Burn Notice as we fell asleep. I promise, we’re not an old married couple (despite the boringness of that statement).

My alarm sounded bright and early at 9:30, which gave me just enough time to dress, run to my room to switch shoes and grab my keys before heading off to meet the family for breakfast. Brother was hung over as shit. Sister displayed her horrible knife skills when trying to cut her pancakes (1-she’s 9, why can’t she use a knife? 2-pancakes covered in syrup are the easiest things to cut, they practically fall apart when you look at them wrong). And Papa expressed his very positive feelings about the Minimalist.

After our hearty breakfasts we exchanged hugs and went our separate ways. My way: meeting up with Westchester, Roomie-Dearest, the Pollock and Boy Scout*** for breakfast (I didn’t eat, but instead stole a bunch of food which later became my dinner), after which I returned to the Minimalist’s bed to share and “celebrate” (wink wink) the news of Papa’s complete lack of dislike towards him.

Like I said, the most amazing weekend ever thanks to:

My family

The Minimalist

60 degree weather

Hopefully, this euphoria will carry over through tomorrow. I can’t really see myself stepping down from cloud 9, 10, 11, 12…anytime soon.

*Olds-the oldest apartment-style dorms on campus, usually reserved for upperclassmen. Due to their style and location, they’re a great on-campus party spot.

**Hookar-a girl I’ve always been friendly with, but now that she no longer wants to transfer (and probably a couple of other reasons) we’ve been hanging out a lot more. She’s a bit of an acquired taste, but always fun.

***Boy Scout-a friend of the Pollock and Mr. Jackson. He’s a tennis player, a super-sweet guy, and a card-carrying member of the 6-pack club.

Pink Highlighter

Sorry for being a stranger lately. It’s not that I’ve been terribly busy, it’s just that things haven’t been terribly exciting. So let me hit the highlights (done with a pink highlighter, to be festive):

I made some delicious drinky drinks that you should try as soon as you get that chance (which probably means as soon as you get Triple Sec, because very few people have that lying around).

Despite the fact that I am taking a class on the history and literature of New Orleans I did not watch the Super Bowl.

I did get some super cute personalized Saints M&Ms, though, courtesy of Frenchie.

We have our first rugby game of the season this Saturday and I’m scared shitless. Why, you ask? Because yesterday was the first time we’ve touched a rugby ball in weeks because the fields have been closed due to snow that refuses to melt. And I’m still yet to make it through more than one complete practice this semester.

Why, you ask? F-ing asthma has either got me coughing up a lung or seeing stars. Oh, and the icing on this cupcake—we still don’t have a full team. But as always, if we don’t win the game we’ll be sure to win the social.

Papa and co, and Brother are coming to visit soon. I’m really excited to see them all. AND the Minimalist is going to finally meet my family. I’m nervous about that. Not so much that they won’t like him (which is probably 50-50), but that this is a big step. I don’t know if I’m ready for any big steps.

Mother sent me a Fargo hat because that is the one piece of cold-weather gear that I was lacking. It’s great.

My inspiration.

Up? I feel Russian.

Down? I’m a bunny.

Valentines Day is coming up. Whether the Minimalist will actually do anything for it is highly doubtful. Luckily, having a Valentine has never really been that important to me. Westchester, Roomie-Dearest, Frenchie and I are planning our own little party to ensure we get yummy pink and red candy (and to annoy Frenchie’s horribly cynical, bitter and generally unattractive roommate).

I’m beginning to get involved with an amazing viral art project that benefits the children of New Orleans. It’s called the Fundred Dollar Bill project. The gist of it is that there is an extremely high level of toxic lead in the soil in New Orleans, which gives anyone (mainly children) who drink the water lead poisoning, which has been linked to learning disabilities, lower test scores and higher rates of violent crime. All bad stuff, right? Well the artist, Mel Chin, found a way to fix the lead problem all for the low low price of $300,000,000. Mel said he couldn’t raise the money, but he could make it.

So he made a blank $100 template and is asking anyone and everyone to color it in and he’ll trade them to Congress for real money. That’s about as condensed as it gets, but it is super cool. Have you made your Fundred?

Bleh with a Capital B

To sum up my current existence, let me say “bleh.”

I say “bleh” because:

I’m sick, supposedly with a bad sinus infection, but I doubt that a bit. At least it’s not the mono Brother thought I had.

My room is a mess and my laundry is in terrible need of washing, but I feel as if I have neither the time nor the energy to do it.

I have no clue what’s going on as far as the Minimalist and I are concerned. We haven’t been the same since school started back up. We don’t see each other nearly as much. When we do see each other things are pretty much the same, but I’m still…I don’t know…unhappy?...wary?...something. This is just making me re-realize how much I enjoy being with him. Maybe things will change soon.

Despite the fact that I have been doing all my homework (including my readings, which I normally never do) on time, I still have a mountain (or what feels like a mountain) waiting for me today.

Over break I got in AMAZING shape. I came black at my ideal weight (as determined by my height and bone size, and how I like to look) and with an amazing handle on my eating. After two weeks of dining hall food all that progress has gone out the window. It sucks. I can’t keep letting this happen.

This weekend was a bust. Not only was I sick, but there was NOTHING going on Friday night (I went to bed at 11), our first game of the season on Saturday got canceled (while I couldn’t play I would have at least loved to go), the guido party Saturday night was shit, and everything else I did Saturday just didn’t feel that fun so I ended up coming back to my place (much to the seeming indifference of the Minimalist) and going to bed.

What’s the light at the end of this tunnel? If you figure one out pleasepleaseplease let me know. Until then, I’m going to continue trying to keep myself from crawling back into bed and waiting for these next few days to be over.

PS-A half-full handle of Sailor Jerry's was smashed last night. I believe we should have a moment of silence, fly flags at half mast and drink a shot (NOT take a shot) in honor of our fallen hommie.

Craving Christmas

Hello, stranger. Long time no speak. How’s the family?

…

Oh, mine is doing well. My brother has infected lymph nodes. I think I have an ear infection. Sister is sick, as well. She emailed me about it, which is weird. She just got an email address and emails me random things. I didn’t have an email address when I was 8, but that was a long time ago and I guess times have changed. Have you been keeping busy?

…

I’ve been pretty busy, too. The fall rugby season ended with a all out bash with my ruggirls, complete with jungle juice, and a frigid co-ed touch tournament, where a few people got a little too intense. The tournament was followed by me drinking on a Sunday afternoon with some friends and getting some good tipsy bonding time with my man. I went to a “formal” Friday night and got skeezed on twice Saturday. Most of my peers are pulling their hair out and memorizing the library’s hours in preparation for finals. I, on the other hand, am having a relatively easy time of it. With only one actual final, a take-home final and two brief and briefer papers to write, I’m on easy street compared to most. Call it luck of (screwing) the Irish or a wonderful dose of karmic payback, but I’m loving things right now.

…

Well, not all things. Maybe this is part of growing up or being away from home with all of its decorations and abilities to create the delicious baked good I keep reading about, but I’m just not in the Christmas spirit. The only thing that has really been able to put me in the mood was the handful of trips I’ve made to the mall, which is thoroughly decked out in red, green and gold (and has been since at least November 1st). But now my Christmas shopping is done, my friends’ shopping is done, I’ve filled my Salvation Army stocking, bought all the wrapping supplies I need and finished writing my holiday budget advice article for the paper.

I, once again, almost can’t wait to go home in 11 days. The Minimalist may even be with me, which should make for an interesting few days. And in 16 days I’ll once again be in New York, eating Italian pastries, slices, and soaking up the accent.

Until then, what is a girl to do when she’s craving Christmas?

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