Possible Halloween Costumes
1. Sacajawea
2. Skanky Sacajawea (Skankajawea)
3. Emily Dickinson
4. Skanky Emily Dickinson
5. The Window from “Get Low” by Lil’ John
6. The Wall from “Get Low” by Lil’ John
(Can windows or walls be skanky?)
7. A hippie
The first time I heard of eggnog was while watching a Christmas episode of Nickelodeon’s Fairly Odd Parents. (Note: it wasn’t Christmas—I just like Christmas-oriented TV.) Timmy asks his fairygod parents to make Christmas happen every day. Like most children’s TV, it actually raised some pretty interesting philosophical issues about ritual and novelty, but I was more focused on one aspect: eggnog.
All year long, Timmy’s real father covets eggnog, but he can only drink it during Christmas. When Christmas happens every day, eggnog becomes repulsive, and if memory served me right, he may have also become obese. My point is, I have recently gotten absolutely addicted to the stuff. I put it in my coffee, eat it with Special K, and, in weak moments, drink it straight from the carton.
I stopped believing in Santa Clause the Christmas Eve that I left out Oreo cookies for Santa in the kitchen, and then got hungry in the middle of the night and ate them myself. I think what was lost that night has manifested itself in a mixture of eggs, milk, sugar, brandy (optional) and dots of nutmeg. Christmas comes and goes, but gluttony is perpetual. The good thing is that Christmas is the most convenient and acceptable time for it.
I cannot wait for finals to be over so that, like Timmy’s dad, I can devote my time to unleashing my eggnog crazies (it’s only a prelude right now), and take breaks to spend time with people I like. It’s unwise for these to happen simultaneously.
Happy Holidays!
The Sound of Morning (by TangYauHoong)
Every day, I find a new kind of non-human primate to marvel at
(via theanimalblog)
So I’m pretty sure that the last time somebody ordered one of these Pumpkin Spice Lattes, I forgot to put in the expresso. Basically, I gave her pumpkin milk. My only saving grace is that Starbucks drinks are so sugary, that you can’t taste the coffee anyway. But really, pumpkin milk. Sorry Kaylin! Please come back. Our quiche is pretty good. I can’t really mess up a pre-packaged quiche.
Nothing like a bougie brunch in between classes.
It started off when I tried to slice the loaf of sourdough bread, but the bread was hard and a little stale so instead of a neat slice I got a bunch of convex scraps. Then, I put some sandwich chicken slices on the bread, and cut up little pieces of Becky’s colby-jack cheese stick (sorry Bex!) to sprinkle on the bread and some asparagus. Oh, and the whole thing was practically engulfed in olive oil before hitting the toaster oven. So I am sitting here eating this, watching Dexter and feeling assholeishly proud of myself.
A couple of ways to bide the time while Irene does her thang:
Order pizza, because apparently Domino’s is open even during hurricanes.
Decorate your notebooks for next year with a women in Klimt theme. Consider being less dorky, but then decide against it. After all, 10 years ago, each notebook would have it’s own Backstreet Boy. The more they change…
Play 3-card poker with family, using one cent coins. (I knew there was a reason we keep hoarding them.)
It sounds like a thousand running faucets outside.
Boisterous New Jersey Gov. Chris Christie demanded people “get the hell off the beach” in Asbury Park and said: “You’re done. Do not waste any more time working on your tan.
— We’re always very classy here in the Jerz.
Parents and Summertime
My Mom bought a giant box of chocolate covered raisins from Costco in June, and they have been in the fridge since. She was convinced that they tasted funny (they didn’t), so she told me to throw them in the backyard behind the rocks on which she leaves our leftovers for the birds. “I don’t want the birds to eat bad raisins,” she said. I’m pretty sure all our leftovers are eaten by just one fat varmint, but I could be wrong. Our backyard slopes into the ground before it hits the fence, so I had to be in a pit with the wild plants (to me, they are wild) in order to dispose of them. For some reason, my mom did not want to throw it in the garbage. “It will help the fertilizer,” she said. I think it will just attract snakes (though snakes eating raisins just seems weird to me). Anyways, the chocolate covered raisins were all stuck together and I had to take them out in clusters. I spent the next half hour (it was a Costo-size box) throwing clusters of chocolate covered raisins at the fence and watching them burst and scatter behind the rocks in the deep woods of my backyard. It was actually a pretty good time. Now the varmint can make some new snake friends.
A few hours later, my Dad yelled at us during dinner for not knowing how to dance the twist. “What do they even teach you guys in school?” He then made me change his ringtone to “Tequila.” Later, when I said I couldn’t watch Curb Your Enthusiasm with them because I was reading, he said, “Yeah, well, curb your enthusiasm for reading.” Now I know that bad punning habit is genetic.
My reward after driving my sister to JFK at 5 AM. This + The Subtle Knife before 8 AM. It’s times like these I wish it was still winter.
