I am cooler than my roomates
I swear, I am getting so spoiled by this damn gorgeous weather. If I see a hint of a cloud formation and have to put on a jacket, I go into a rage so scary my friends threaten to call A&E's Intervention on me. I could do without the cold weather altogether, really -- just counting the days until I can throw on my yellow polka dotted bikini and lounge by the pool.
On a totally unrelated note (but seriously, when are my notes actually related?), I am completely distracted by "Sir Psycho Sexy" in my ears. I never wear ear phones, but the boys (those evil, evil boys who live in my house) who are watching "Close Encounters of the Third Kind" kindly reminded me that there are headphones by the computer. I get the hint, jerks -- you want me to listen to my music quietly while you watch your dorky Saturday afternoon movie. Now you get to listen to me sing along sounding like a deaf-mute, humming the parts I don't know, while bobbing my head. I am so much cooler than them.
I am ready for another vacation. Work is so crazy right now -- my days are plagued by fantasies of being one of those smug-faced, backpack-wearing SMU students whose biggest concern is managing their time between watching "Famiy Guy" and writing a mediocre 10-page paper on Antoine de Saint-Exupery's "The Little Prince" and figure out a subtle way to convince the reader that he on drugs when he wrote that without seeming an expert on drugs. When I graduated, I knew I wanted to go back and get my master's, but I'd have to work first. Only this time I don't think I'd go to Brownsville if I had six or seven days to go wherever I want, although I admit I'd be tempted. It's the Catholic guilt that calls me back every time -- the little voice tells me, "you MUST see your family! It's your fault you moved far away from them...you need to go back every chance you get." I write this as I look up "Te Deum" on Limewire. Oy.
These are the places I'd go:
- London. I've been thinking about it a lot. I'd have to control my weather-related tantrums by the time I get there because I heard there's hardly any sun and there's not much chance I'd get to wear my yellow polka dotted bikini, but I'll make a compromise for the chance to have some real tea and experience the "mind the gap" phenomenon in person.
- Las Vegas. I've never been. I heard it's fun.
- New York. Shows, shopping, the all-around fabulousness of it. I'm afraid that if I go, I'd never want to leave.
- Paris. I've actually been there, but it doesn't count because I was changing planes en route to Rome. I saw the Eiffel Tower from the plane and watched beautiful French teenagers talking to each other on the shuttle bus. The thing is that if I go to one great European city, I'd want to go to them all since I'm already over there. And I'd want to know French like a native, so either I pretend to be a deaf-mute or study and practice really hard for three or four years before I even think about going to Paris. Or maybe just wait until America has a president who's not hated worldwide.
On that note, I'm going to Dave and Buster's to play Dance Dance Revolution. Ciao!
On a totally unrelated note (but seriously, when are my notes actually related?), I am completely distracted by "Sir Psycho Sexy" in my ears. I never wear ear phones, but the boys (those evil, evil boys who live in my house) who are watching "Close Encounters of the Third Kind" kindly reminded me that there are headphones by the computer. I get the hint, jerks -- you want me to listen to my music quietly while you watch your dorky Saturday afternoon movie. Now you get to listen to me sing along sounding like a deaf-mute, humming the parts I don't know, while bobbing my head. I am so much cooler than them.
I am ready for another vacation. Work is so crazy right now -- my days are plagued by fantasies of being one of those smug-faced, backpack-wearing SMU students whose biggest concern is managing their time between watching "Famiy Guy" and writing a mediocre 10-page paper on Antoine de Saint-Exupery's "The Little Prince" and figure out a subtle way to convince the reader that he on drugs when he wrote that without seeming an expert on drugs. When I graduated, I knew I wanted to go back and get my master's, but I'd have to work first. Only this time I don't think I'd go to Brownsville if I had six or seven days to go wherever I want, although I admit I'd be tempted. It's the Catholic guilt that calls me back every time -- the little voice tells me, "you MUST see your family! It's your fault you moved far away from them...you need to go back every chance you get." I write this as I look up "Te Deum" on Limewire. Oy.
These are the places I'd go:
- London. I've been thinking about it a lot. I'd have to control my weather-related tantrums by the time I get there because I heard there's hardly any sun and there's not much chance I'd get to wear my yellow polka dotted bikini, but I'll make a compromise for the chance to have some real tea and experience the "mind the gap" phenomenon in person.
- Las Vegas. I've never been. I heard it's fun.
- New York. Shows, shopping, the all-around fabulousness of it. I'm afraid that if I go, I'd never want to leave.
- Paris. I've actually been there, but it doesn't count because I was changing planes en route to Rome. I saw the Eiffel Tower from the plane and watched beautiful French teenagers talking to each other on the shuttle bus. The thing is that if I go to one great European city, I'd want to go to them all since I'm already over there. And I'd want to know French like a native, so either I pretend to be a deaf-mute or study and practice really hard for three or four years before I even think about going to Paris. Or maybe just wait until America has a president who's not hated worldwide.
On that note, I'm going to Dave and Buster's to play Dance Dance Revolution. Ciao!
posted by deconstructionist at 1:42 PM
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