Damn:

Really, I don’t even know why in the hell ANYONE would ever rewatch Cold Mountain if they had already seen it once.  Besides the fact that it is godawful long, there is absolutely no happiness in this movie whatsoever.  It will only leave you completely hopeless and utterly depressed.  I feel like I need a stiff drink and a good firm slap across the face just to recover.  Lawd.  Although, if you’re a fan of seeing Jude Law’s naked ass, maybe tune in.  Just make sure you skip through all of the parts with sons getting shot in front of their mother and women getting near-raped while their babies lie on the cold ground outside!  Juuuuuuuuust a suggestion!

Annnnnnd on a side note: whoever is searching for “scream your heart out + drive fast”?  Call me!  Those are two of my favorite activities, often enjoyed simultaneously.  I feel like we should maybe drink together.  Or drive.  But definitely not drink and drive.  Those are two activities I enjoy seperately.

Plane Jane

I’ve been thinking a lot about flying lately.  Mostly because I worked at the Air Show this weekend, where I learned the names of planes like the SR-71 and the F-22 and the B-52, which, up till now I had always believed to be just the name of a band.   Anyways, I spent the weekend schlocking overpriced souvenir airplanes to parents, or rather their whiny children, who demanded to have the B-2 Stealth Bomber, and pouted when they found out we had sold out of the Chinook helicopter.  I really hope these children grow up to go on dates someday, because man, I also interacted with alot of their Future Sleves if they don’t get their shit together.  I’m talking 30 somethings with tube socks and ham radios who show up at the Air Show at 8 in the morning and stay all day and also buy toy airplanes.  I have seen your future, children, and it is lonely….

But also, I’ve been thinking about flying because, in a little less than 3 weeks, I will fly for the first time, down to Florida to visit my oldest sister and her fiance.  I am really quite horrified at the notion of this.  I know that it is highly unlikely that my plane will go down in flames, but even as I sit here writing this, I feel like I’m definitely jinxing myself… Sorry, fellow flyers!  If the plane goes down, it’s definitely because this random girl in Ohio thought it might happen!  Honestly though, I have no idea how I’m going to keep myself calm, but plans definitely include listening to “Flight 180″ on repeat and averting my eyes from the windows.  I really don’t think I could handle being in amongst the clouds for an extended period of time without losing my shit.  And it doesn’t help that I’m traveling with another first time flyer, my older sister Whitney, or that we have a plane switch (or whatever they’re called…. told you, I’m not good at this) in Atlanta, which is supposed to be one massively busy and hellish airport.  Great!  Good times all around!

On a completely unrelated side note, IMDB suggests that if I loved Death At A Funeral (which: I really, really did; any movie containing Matthew McFadyen, poop jokes, and madcap British hijinx?  I’m there), I would also enjoy The Godfather.  I sincerely doubt this, but then again, maybe it is time that I give The Godfather a try….

See You Around Town…

Whenever I start to feel like I’ve been having a completely lazy, unproductive summer, I just remind myself that I already accomplished a lifelong dream in May: I visited New York City.  Ok, so that’s not really very productive of me, but it’s not average, either, which is sometimes what my life veers into…  Anyway, the trip itself was perfect.  I mean, seriously, I could not have asked for anything more out of it.  I got to go with my three very best friends: Kimber, Claire, and Emily, we had mostly lovely weather, no fighting (except for some cold shouldering that lasted about three hours, but we don’t talk about that), tons of sightseeing and amazing food, a night of drinking and debauchery (…okay, more drinking than debauchery, but I love to sounding like the bad ass I so obviously am not) and TAXI RIDING!  And honestly, most of the negative things I had ever heard about New York were proven false.  Everywhere we went, people were lovely, not rude or snide or too in a hurry to notice any measly tourists.  Waiters and waitresses offered to take group photos on our cameras for us.  We struck up a lovely conversation with two men on the subway late at night.  We didn’t have to ask for directions on the subway on Sunday because a very nice Hispanic man in a poncho walked up and helped us of his own accord.  Even the ones who hit on us or cat-called did so in utterly charming ways that made me want to sit and talk with them instead of ignoring them like you do a regular creeper, like calling us “mamis” or identifying us by shirt color. I didn’t find the city to be any dirtier than downtown Dayton, and honestly, as far as the smell of the city, I’ll repeat what I told my mother: the worst-smelling part of the city, in my estimation, came from standing outside of the Fifth Avenue Abercrombie and Fitch and inhaling whatever rancid pubescent boy cologne they were brewing inside that managed to waft out onto the sidewalk, assaulting the nostrils of us unsuspecting tourists.

While in New York, we were lucky enough to become acquainted with two of Claire’s charming family members: Aunt Madeline and Jeremy, a cousin.  We stayed with Madeline in Brooklyn, and she was the perfect hostess.  She offered to parallel park the car when we arrived and had a bottle of wine waiting for us upstairs in her gorgeous apartment, where she had written in charcoal all over one brick wall, just little phrases; my favorite: “I liked it the way I found it”.  It just rings true to my whole experience in the city.  Seriously, we’re so lucky we got to stay with Madeline: she showed us how to ride the B train into Manhattan, didn’t mind when we came in at 6 A.M. obnoxiously drunk and woke her up, and sat and drank coffee with us on one of her precious free evenings, asking us about our lives back in Dayton and telling us about hers, which includes travels abroad at the age of 18 and dating various news anchors.  Yeah so I’m pretty sure she’s rad. 

And then there’s Jeremy, or Jeremiah, as he has come to be known.  Jeremiah is awesome for many reasons: he has a hat full of bones in his tiny one room apartment, the skin of a puff adder that he skinned himself, outrageous polka-dotted flip-flops given to him in a small African village, and a vast knowledge of anything you ever wanted to know or were just wondering about, ever.  In the space of about three days, he taught us about Manhattan schist, the building of the Brooklyn Bridge, the art form that is slingshotting, demon hunting in Mexico, and many more valuable lessons that I’m going to be selfish with and keep for myself.  I will say that after a night spent drinking beer and whiskey with the guy, I came away with five new injuries, but a whole new appreciation for trilobites and ammonites.  Everyone needs to drink with a biology professor at least once in their lives.

 

Honestly, every time I’ve tried to write about New York in the past two months, it’s come out as incoherent garbage that’s basically me spouting various quotes or anecdotes and not doing any actual writing, but I guess this’ll have to suffice.  Don’t worry, I have a list of all the things that make me smile or laugh out loud when remembering them, as well as hundreds of pictures, but I will keep them to myself because I know how boring it is to sit and listen to someone blather on about their hilarious stories and oh my gosh remember that one night right after we got off the Brooklyn Bridge?!  Oh my GOD, that was just too funny OH WAIT YOU WEREN’T THERE YOU TOTALLY DON’T CARE.  This is probably bad enough as it is, so I guess you’ll just never have to sit through the telling of the cute boy with the Narnia tattoo….

 

July…What?

So, I really didn’t realize it had been nearly a month since I updated last.  My total bad, internet!  Because you missed me so much.  Anyway, this month I have been practicing some expert procrastination, which includes neglecting this sight to indulge in all of my slightest whims, like buying season 2 of Psych on DVD, sleeping til noon, and attempting to read four books at once.  I also got an email from my future roommate that I have yet to respond to.  This was a couple of weeks ago.  Seriously, I’m such a rude asshole, I’m sure she doesn’t want to live with me.  However, maybe if bitch would accept my Facebook friend request, I would email her BACK.  Speaking of email, you know what phrase I really have no tolerance for?  “Shoot me an email”.  It just makes me visualize some bizarro world where people message each other via some giant, nationwide air hockey type table, which now that I think about it sounds vaguely awesome.  Damn it!  But then again, it also brings to mind thirtysomethings in suits who “network” and have business lunches and people who call your people and use those irritating little Bluetooths. 

Ok, so clearly my mind is locked into summer mode and just wanders at will every now and then.  Sorry.  Anyways, I honestly have been thinking an awful lot about posting here and I have about a million ideas that I want to write about, including lengthy pieces about New York and last year, both of which I have in draft form, as well as the best characters I encountered freshman year of college, which will hopefully become a yearly installment.  Not to mention all the meaningless lists I make every day, which I know are just the highlight of everyone’s lives.  But for now, we can just talk about how I saw The Hold Steady on Letterman last night, and when I heard it announced I simultaneously choked on my Gatorade and tripped on my own feet running to the TV because I am a graceful and desirable young lady.  But damn, Craig Finn was just so entirely adorkable  and awesome that I decided I desperately need to own more than just Seperation Sunday and will probably end up blowing the money I earn working at the Air Show this weekend on their other three CD’s, since apparently Gem City Records has no available copies of Charm School and the CD has gone out of print.  Have I mentioned that it’s been a great summer for my still developing musical taste?  I almost can’t wait for the two-hour drives back and forth to BG this year….