the lengths to which hippies will go to do hippie things

This week has been the week for crazy weather. I drove home today in rain so heavy I couldn't see the car in front of me at one point, and it definitely hailed a little bit. But I am happy to report to you all that my little car made the 400 mile trip, half or so of it through the rain (which is always when it dies), and when I got back home and turned it off, it started again as soon as I cranked it. So I have a bigger crush than normal on my car right now.

Also, I saw Garden State (all the way through) for the first time tonight, and it was amazing.

But what I really want to say is that my roommate (the Colombian, not the deodorant one) is a crazy hippie. We were standing outside this place called Gumby's, which could be a story in itself because Gumby's is great. They've got this thing called Pokey Sticks. And they're kind of like cheese sticks, but not really. Maybe like pizza without the sauce, and cut up into little rectangles. Deliciousness. Although that's not my story.

So we were standing outside and the weather has been crazy so it was really windy. And while we were waiting for our food, Alicia asked for some styrofoam cups to pour our Sundrop into because she was just that thirsty and couldn't wait. And of course I partook. And when we were waiting and our cups were empty but our hands were full of Pokey Sticks boxes, all of a sudden the wind gusted her cup out of her hand and there it was rolling across the parking lot.

And let me tell you, Alicia was horrorstruck. Horrorstruck. She turned to me with this look on her face like she was going to cry so I said, "Go! Go get it! Run!" And she started running across the parking lot, hands full of pizza boxes and her giant purse thing and so she was kind of waddling but she was running after that thing and it was rolling away and I was picturing her sitting on the couch sipping Sundrop contentedly from it later. And then - then - I see her stomp the cup and shoot her fist in the air and maybe the wind was too loud in my ears, but she could have yelled victory!

What she actually yelled was this:

"I WILL NOT LITTER!!!"

So here's to chasing styrofoam cups (please everyone note the irony of that - how many centuries does styrofoam take to decompose again?) because I WILL NOT LITTER!


cheers.

used-to-being-short-person syndrome

I've discovered something about myself, although at the moment I can't remember exactly what made me realize it. I've known I'm sometimes kind of an awkward person (though, to be fair, I'm not nearly as awkward as I used to be and there are certainly people worse than I am), but I am especially so with people who are smaller than me.

Now, I don't mean people who are younger than me, because they're supposed to be smaller. And I guess it's just because I've always been the smallest and shortest person, so I don't really know how to act around them. It just doesn't make sense to me. That is, unless a person is younger than me, my brain just doesn't think he should be smaller. So it's kind of like how some people don't really know how to act around kids. And I have to keep myself from acting around them the way I might some other little person (and, for me, those are generally child-things),

It's not strange with Nicole, but I think I'm just used to her now. Because I vaguely remember feeling very strange back freshman year when it was just the two of us walking together. Like I should bend my knees very slowly until I'm the very shortest and no one noticed at all. Isn't that a dance move? The elevator?

Also, I'm at my mom's house for the weekend. And the day before I came three tornadoes touched down in this county and the neighboring county. And here, if we ever get tornadoes, they are F0's, but Thursday they were F2's and F3's and flipped over some planes at the airport. And when my friend Antonio and I were driving around last night, we were almost certain we were seeing a wall cloud being lit up by the lightning. It was insane.

And another cool thing about being home - I just got my braces adjusted and they've moved so much just since yesterday and I am hurting so bad. But the cool thing is my mom always hooks me up. I'm definitely on some narcotics right now, and everything is gooooooood.


cheers.

p.s. when I stood up just now, it took everything else a second to catch up to my height.. teeheehee.

[UPDATE: five minutes of medicine head and then feeling like you're going to throw up for the rest of the night is not gooooood. Never again, never again, never again..]

in regards to the NC people i miss...

...first, most, and foremost would have to be my russian boyfriend. what will i do without seeing him in the wag kitchen every week? or him throwing zucchini at me from across the room? or walking in just when i'm wearing the bamboo asian hat with pink ribbons that has randomly been by our popcorn boxes for several months and was just begging for someone to wear it (which both myself and ryan did)?

who will he come to work just to see? how will he plan his schedule if not around mine? surely this will throw his life into chaos! madness! who knows what he will do! how he'll use that zucchini he has no one to throw at! what a broken man he will surely become. tragic, i tell you, tragic...

if you will, a moment of silence, please, for my russian boyfriend.

greetings from jersey!

hello, lovers! did you miss me? it has been over 2 weeks since my last posting and poor sara has had to hold down the fort all by her lonesome. well, fear not! i have returned after a much too long absence due to crazy amounts of papers, projects, finals, being in what seemed like a constant state of sickness in some form, working every weekend all weekend, and finally, thankfully, packing up my life in NC and moving it back here to NJ for the summer after an incredibly boring 10 hour long drive up the eastern seaboard. that's right, you read that correctly, TEN HOURS.

i'd like to be able to report that other exciting and fabulous things managed to occur in the interim besides those things mentioned above, but as per usual, not really... besides the fact that i'm finally free of the cape harbor hell hole and summer is OFFICIALLY here, there has been little cause for extreme bouts of joy, but that's not to take away from those two things just mentioned, as they were highly anticipated and incredibly freeing as i haven't felt in a very long time.

in original nicole fashion, i have decided not to take summer classes so as to avoid wasting money on gas, having homework, and having a restricted schedule to work the job that i don't have yet. so as of this current date, though i've only been home not even 3 days, summer is shaping up to be a whole lot of lounging around doing not much of anything. and any of you who know, know that's pretty much my life goal, especially as far as summer is concerned. works for me! minus the whole not having a job part, because i actually really do want/need one since a person generally needs money to survive and purchase whatever their heart may desire (or be responsible and pay off student loans...just a thought).

while i can't wait for all my jersey lovers to arrive for some loooongggg overdue hanging out and general seeing of each other after months and months of not, i already miss NC and everyone there. i started missing everything the minute i got on 40 and i wasn't even fully out of wilmington yet! oh, how that place and people have stolen my heart <3

should i not get a job, or even if i do, i have decided to create of list of things i hope to accomplish over the course of the summer as opposed to being that incredibly lazy bum we know i can be and have mentioned earlier i thought about again becoming. so, here is a working version of my summer goals:

1. get enough sun that i don't have to show people my butt for them to believe i am already tan
2. eat my weight in ice cream, but manage to successfully keep it off by having a steady work out regime
3. take more pictures of my crazy, amazing friends
4. write (and finish) another screenplay and/or short story
5. do my laundry in a more timely manner as opposed to letting nearly everything i own get dirty so i'm left with only my granny panties and an XXL t-shirt that i forget why i own in the first place until laundry day comes each week (or two)
6. go to all 31 movies released from now until august that i want to see

what do you think? good plan so far? i thought so, too. who knows, maybe this will inspire each of you to make your own list! good luck, and lemme know how it goes!

i am a mess-maker

Something about me: I'm a little bit disastrous.

I'm one of those people who, if I'm happy or excited, is just bubbling over with it, full and elated and energetic and unable to hold it all in. Likewise, if I love somebody, I love them all the way, with all of me, as hard as I can, more than what might be considered smart by some. Even when I screw it up, which I tend to do, if I love someone, I love them more than anyone in the world. And when I'm mad or sad, I might as well be Irish. If I'm mad, I'm all fire and yelling until I just run out of it, and when I'm sad, the whole world is falling apart.

I'm passionate, and that's the thing. It's not selective. Disastrous or otherwise.

I say all of that to say I'm kind of a mess-maker. If I go somewhere or do something, chances are something crazy will happen. Like with voting Tuesday. Now, I'd never voted before (although I think I could have locally last year, but I mean for the presidency) and I was pumped. Grabbed my friend Scott, drove him to his district and then we headed toward mine. At this point, it was about 5:30 and polls were open until 7:30. We had two hours. We were fine.

Now let me say one more thing. The church where I was voting at is called - we'll just say - Praise Be To God The Highest Presbyterian. Located at 4501 Wrongsville Ave. We pulled up to the intersection (4500), turned left toward the higher numbers, and pulled into the church on the corner. Which was dead. And locked. And actually called Praise Be to God The Highest Baptist. Two totally different churches we're talking about. Soooo. We circled the block about ten times looking for the church we were suppose to be at, the one that was supposed to be on the corner where the imposter Baptist church was (the church that, by the way, was at 4700). And we did find a Wesleyan church, but not the Presbyterian one.

So we drove home, since Scott didn't have a handy iPhone so we could google the thing, googled it at home, and we were right! The address was correct! Well, after driving all the way back out there (it was about ten til seven at this point), we found the place on the other side of the intersection, more on the intersecting road than the addressed road. Well, forty minutes. At least we'd found the place, finally.

And then it got worse. But to be fair, it was my fault. I wasn't on the list to vote. Apparently you have to change your address when you move, and being the first time voter, I did not know that. So I sat with a lady who had been doing this very thing since around six that morning and whose patience was running very thin. And we about couldn't find me in the system. But finally they did, and I voted, and I am very happy about that.

Plus, the sticker was really neat =)

cheers.

so i've taken up salsa dancing

And let me tell you, it is pretty great - and I am pretty bad at it.

I've actually had a lot of fun with it, learning and all. Plus, I totally get to touch other people's hands, and I know it's weird, but I'm completely in love with hands. Actually, that said, I should be less likely to want to touch a bunch of people's hands just like I wouldn't want to be making out with all those people (since way back when I liked a boy enough to date him, I really liked kissing), but I digress. I just like hands, and every once in a great while someone I'm dancing with will have really wonderful hands and I forget about dancing and get even more off step than I normally am and just feel their hands and the way they fit with mine.

Which totally makes me sound like a freak.

Right, so when I'm not sexually harassing people via hand holding, I'm yelling no se como bailar! as smooth latin dancers pull me onto the floor. Sometimes, I'm kind of like a fridge and really it's just hopeless and embarrassing, but other times I forget that I don't know how and I do really well, considering. So I can't wait to dance in Colombia, although from what my roommate tells me I'll have to learn all over again, but I'm excited. And of the little I can say in Spanish, at least I can tell them I don't know how to dance.

It's completely risky though, I've decided. I need to develop one of those eyes that can pick out the nasty, perverted guys, kind of like a gaydar, because, while a lot of the people are patient and nice, some of them just want to bump and grind and let me tell you, it ain't happenin'. There's gonna be some bumpin' and grindin' of his teeth on the floor when I beat him up. Right hook, duck, swing bam bam. You know.

I've also decided I was born the wrong color. I should be at least three different colors, but alas, I am trapped in the body of skinny white girl who can't dance. But it's, like, fighting its way out of me, cause I'm a gangster and I say giiiirrrrl and I got back.


Aaaaanyway. The real purpose of this post is to say Nicole's leaving today. And we're going to miss her. And I'm going to get a picture and put it on here of me waving goodbye as Nicole pulls onto the open road saying, dirty Jerz, I'm comin' home.

in memoriam

Nicole is currently dead. She caught some icky frat boy disease, and I'm not sure if she's going to make it. So, in memory of our dear Nicole, I thought I'd post something from work that always reminds me of her.



First, how nice of them! How wonderfully inclusive and politically incorrect! This sign is the greatest thing I've ever seen, and if there were ever a sign made specifically for Nicole and her height, this one is it. Especially since we realized the same day that she is precisely three popcorn bags tall (I'll have to get a picture of that too). Ahaha, sometimes my job is amazing.

Secondly, what is a carbon finger? Does Nicole have one? Would it go away if she had longer legs? And really, I would love to do the math on that ratio. 3:5? How many more times is she stepping?? Isn't that creating more CO2 waste by all the huffing and puffing of whatever percent more she's having to walk for every three normal steps?? Here's what I think: we can reduce waste (time waste, I mean, because clearly we need to be more efficient) by punting her over to the recycle bin.


cheers.