Watching

Bleu

Biggest canker sore of my modern life.

Seriously, this motherfucker is the size of a dime.

Watching

Dependencia Sexual

Watching

Dr. Strangelove, or How I Stopped Worrying and Learned to Love the Bomb

Reading

Richard Wright Native Son

Watching

Savages
The Man Who Wasn't There

That's four honks, two calls of "Sup Shorty?" and one "Hey, cutie." Today.

In other news, a recent poll of Friendly Avenue motorists shows they still appreciate my fine ass.

I say "fatal" because I retain water equivalent to the Great Lakes for two days afterward.

I planned dinner for this evening: spaghetti squash with broccoli, spinach, and cheese in a tomato sauce, with baked turkey breast marinated in garlic and herb oil.

Coby and Kate invited me to the local Mexican restaurant, El Carreton, as I pulled the garlic out of the refrigerator and I immediately placed it back in the crisper drawer. I'll make it tomorrow.

Mexican food: Obviousgirl's fatal weakness.

Almost the new semester.

My own insignificance dawned on me as I watched Phatty's Party Bus pass under the verdant glow of the Market Street stoplight.

There are truly awesome moments in this modern life.

Watching

Sade

And now I've seen every film at the TLC about the Marquis.

Watching

Be Kind Rewind

Watching

Before the Devil Knows You're Dead

Schedule, fall 2008.

PHI 310 Intro to Formal Logic
LAT 203 Intermediate Latin 1
ENG 390 Writing Center Theory and Practice
ENG 359 Contemporary Poetry
ENG 352 Twentieth Century American Novel

13 hours a week at the TLC -- a shift every Tuesday-Friday afternoon until about 5pm.
Exercising with Coby after work every day.
Libs meetings. Radio show.
Grad school applications.

Hogwarts: taken over by pirates!

Our new upstairs neighbor must WEIGH 500 POUNDS, WEAR A PEG LEG, AND MOVE FURNITURE 22 HOURS PER DAY WHILE LISTENING TO THE STROKES AT 8,934 DECIBELS.

Watching

Atonement
Seven Samurai
Paprika

And by "strange," we're talking Failed Surgery on the Twilight Zone.

Has anyone else ever been struck by the strange spelling of the word "Wyoming?"

Wyoming.

What a weird combination of letters.

Feeling guilty

For the many times I've used the bathroom unnecessarily at Aaron Dell's (and now Gloria's and Tom's and Mariel's) house. I can smell the Sensual Amber-scented hand soap on my hands every time they get near my face for the subsequent six hours.

Feeling guilty

For giggling through the last four minutes of the United States vs. Italy water polo match: the only four minutes of water polo I've ever seen.

Chocolate, plz.

This is rather how I feel right now.

I mean, yeah, I'll keep doing it. I'll eat the fruits and the veggies. They really are delicious, but they are significantly less delicious this week every month.

Edit: Mariel sent me this as an addendum to the first meme. Picard makes me giggle.















The female body right before and during one's period is a load of bloaty, crampy, prone-to-binging B.S. Seriously. The worst side affect of my monthly lady time, though, is stopping myself in the middle of a good ol' emotional breakdown and realizing, hey, I shouldn't reasonably be this upset. An appropriate emotional reaction to [insert peeve here] would be half what I'm currently experiencing and, oh God, are those DISHES in my SINK?

Reading

Elias Canetti Auto-da-Fe

Read at the beach

Milan Kundera Laughable Loves
Junot Diaz The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao

Watching

Futurama: The Beast with a Billion Backs

"Would you date a floating space eyeball with pink tentacles?"

If he sounds like David Cross, sure.

Listening

Beach House Devotion

Grad schools, revised.

Boston University (Boston, MA)
New York University (New York, NY)
Pennsylvania State University (State College, PA)
Rutgers State University of New Jersey (Camden, NJ)
Tufts University (Medford, MA)
University of Maryland (College Park, MD)
University of Pennsylvania (Philadelphia, PA)

Right now, I am satisfied with this list. I may add one or two other schools.

I've been thinking of ways to combine my interests in post-/modernist fiction and Shakespeare. It won't be sandwich material for a good long time, but at least I'll be doing something very few other people are doing AND studying the two areas of lit that pump me the hell up.

Feeling guilty

For continuing to talk smack about the dude in girls' pants, who had just rented two films and left the TLC, as he walked back up to my desk and asked to exchange one of the DVDs he had rented a minute earlier.

These days, they make dudes' jeans that fit dudes as well as women's pants fit ladies. I suppose the appeal of his particular pair was the line of five buttons down the crotch.

Feeling guilty

For calling 911 and filing My First Noise Complaint.

Hot damn!

I done picked m' grad schools!

Boston University (Boston, MA)
Brandeis University (Waltham, MA)
New York University (New York, NY)
Northeastern University (Boston, MA)
Rutgers (Camden, NJ)
University of Pennsylvania (Philadelphia, PA)

OH GOD OH GOD OH GOD

I have actually selected three schools to apply to for my MA in English. I will proceed to hyperventilate.

Boston University (Boston, MA), ranked fifty-fourth for its English PhD program.
Northeastern University (Boston, MA), which I am considering my sort of "safety school," if there is such a thing where grad schools are concerned.
Rutgers-Camden, The State University of New Jersey (Camden, NJ), my mother's alma mater and the eighteenth-ranked English PhD program in the country.

I think I might apply to someplace totally outrageous, like Cornell (ranked sixth), on the off-chance they might accept me.

Hurrz.

The hair that has been nibbling on my neck for the past few months is less than a semester short of FULL-ON SHOULDER CHOMPING.

I'm not going to cut it yet. I'm curious how far it will go to satiate its nibbledy desires.

Feeling Guilty

For stepping on the scale this morning, even though I promised myself I wouldn't weigh in until Monday morning.

Listening

Atlas Sound Let the Blind Lead Those Who See But Cannot Feel

Feeling Guilty

For accidentally looking through my bathroom window into the window of the lit and therefore totally visible bedroom my ex-boyfriend shares with his girlfriend in the apartment building next door to my house.

I want to call his or her cell phone and scream "OH GOD I AM SO SORRY." And then hang up.