A Few of my Favorite Things: Married Student Housing

…self-explanatory: I have many. They don’t really need an introduction. Bon apetit.

1. Married Student Housing.
Honestly, this sounds like the best idea in the world. Anyone who knows me well knows that I am so completely infatuated with every principle behind married student housing (i.e. marriage, foolhardy unconditional love, public assertions of foolhardy unconditional love, liberal arts colleges) that I will probably someday compromise my happiness and self-worth just to live in the married students dorm… because, well, it’s the best idea I’ve ever heard.
Much to my dismay, the prospect of me living in married student housing is highly unlikely for several reasons. First of all, I don’t even have a boyfriend, let alone a fiancee or husband. That can change, though — and it will. My college of choice doesn’t have majors, but if it did, I would major in married student housing and finagling a way to live there.
Also, I don’t think my college really has married student housing. After your freshman year, you’re pretty much allowed to live with whoever you want, regardless of anyone’s gender. Here I should mention that my college is very, very annoying. We technically won that thing that on Gawker about being the most annoying liberal arts college in the country, but Wesleyan somehow stole our title, which I don’t understand. Wesleyan doesn’t really strike me as being annoying, aside from the fact that Barack Obama gave their commencement address, and that’s sort of unfair. Anyways, back to the point: married student housing is apparently not available, and while I could technically live with any potential husband under the whole “gender-blind housing” rule, that’s not nearly as fun.
Why, you might ask? Simple. The only thing I love more than foolhardy unconditional love is being able to shove the fact that you have found foolhardy unconditional love into the faces of the general collective, and married student housing accomplishes just that. See, if I were to tell someone that I was living in married student housing, they would immediately know that I had come upon foolhardy unconditional love… and honestly, I think that’s the most important part of any relationship, just seeing other people spiral into a jealous rage over how sickeningly cute and devoted you are. For me, at least.
Now all I have to do is find a boyfriend to be sickeningly devoted to, finagle a wedding, and find married student housing at the most annoying liberal arts college in the country. Maybe I’ll petition for themed housing… and the theme of my house will be “marriage.” Couplez only.

Blum, blam.

THESE COLOURS DON’T RUN

For what it’s worth, I’m not very patriotic. I don’t own a flag pin, I don’t know the Pledge of Allegiance, and I really just take the Fourth of July as an excuse to smoke blunts and drink light beer. That having been said, people who “use the British spelling” really fucking piss me off. Do I think America spells everything right by default? Not really. I guess it’s debatable. But unless you’re actually from Great Britain, there is absolutely no reason for you to say “colour,” “favourite,” or “programme.” Actually, if you think about it, it takes more effort to type or write “programme” than it would to just say “program” and admit that you are, in fact, from America. I’m not all that amped on the United States right now, but the issue at hand clearly transcends nationality and ventures into a realm I really try to avoid: completely unprovoked pretentiousness.

Witness Exhibit A: after some tactful Facebook stalking, I found the following little tidbit… names have been changed to protect my bankroll.

Person A wrote at 3:44pm on July 13th, 2008 I’m quite excited. It’s grueling now that I’ve finished the summer program I was doing and have nothing to distract me from thinking about starting school. My choices were modernization of europe, the group dynamics psych class, inventing the mid east, and the poetry workshop.

Person B at 2:01pm on July 14th, 2008 Awesome. What was the summer programme?

…now, I know for a solid fact that the perpetrator is not at all from Great Britain. This is simply an issue of completely unprovoked pretentiousness. Understand this fact: using the British spelling does not make you look cool. It makes you look like an asshole. Please devote a page of your “anime hero” themed spiral notebook to copying the phrase “I look like an asshole” as many times as it’ll fit. Please devote the next page to the word “program.”

Then we can all watch NASCAR.

These colours don’t run.

Places that Should Fall Into the Sea

1. Florida.

More to come.

A New and Brilliant Revelation

Dear makers of Odwalla “PomaGrand:”
Your juice tastes like balls. Not literally. But still.

That is all.

A Probable Cause for Me to Not Date You.

I’ve been trying to think of an un-angry blog topic for DAYS, and finally, I think I’ve found one. I remember having a conversation with an ex-boyfriend a long time ago about how generic and unflattering most compliments are, and ever since then, my finely tuned compliment radar has been buzzing almost nonstop. While I enjoy compliments as much as the next person, there are some compliments that are just so generic and unoriginal that they make me want to projectile vomit. Thank you, fabulous ex-boyfriend, for helping me tune my compliment radar in order to properly detect blandness and lack of imagination in all of my potential future mates. This one’s for you. But not really.

Compliments that I am Not Flattered By, and that will Probably Cause me to Not Date You.

1. “You have nice eyes.”
This was the compliment that started off that fateful conversation with my least favorite person in the entire world. Every girl will ultimately believe that “you have nice eyes” is personal to them, because let’s face it — who doesn’t want to think they have pretty eyes? I certainly want to believe it. That’s why this compliment is so generic. You could weigh 400 pounds or have no legs (or both) and you could still technically have pretty eyes. Any compliment befitting to a cripple is just not winning you any points.

2. “You look a lot like ________.”
Thank you for telling me I look a lot like Mary-Kate Olsen, Zooey Deschanel, or Tyra Banks… well, probably not Tyra Banks… but oddly enough, I’ve gotten the first two before. And I look absolutely nothing like those people. Thank you for likening my physical appearance to that of a more attractive celebrity. However, I’m not flattered.

3. “You look a lot like my ex-girlfriend, __________.”
Some people really think this is a compliment. Seriously. People have told me this. Let’s look at this realistically: I have no idea what your ex-girlfriend looks like. I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt by assuming that she’s gorgeous. However, I don’t want you to insinuate that we’re dating because I remind you a little bit of her… which, in my mind, is exactly what you’re doing when you tell me I remind you of your ex. Probably the least flattering statement a potential mate could ever utter in my presence.

4. “Your hair / skin / figure looks better.”
Again: some people say this. I don’t think they’re joking. I’m glad I look “better” now, but what did I look like to you before? Any compliment implying that I was ugly in the past is automatically unflattering and terrible.

5. “Nice adjectives.”
I recognize that this is not a compliment related to physical appearance — however, 18-year-old males have an awful tendency to say absolutely anything you want to hear in order to get all up in your undergarments. Do I sound like a grandmother? Yes. On the other hand, do I wholeheartedly know this to be 100% true? Absolutely. Now, only two people in my entire life have ever looked me in the eye and simply said “nice adjectives.” The first is Baron Wormser. He’s about 110 years old. He used to be Poet Laureate of Maine. I like Maine. I do not blame him, nor do I assume he was trying to get all up in my undergarments. The second, however, was an awful ex-boyfriend who had asked to read over my portfolio. I don’t really care whether or not you LIKE anything in my portfolio, but I mean, come on — “nice adjectives?” I would have preferred “this is all a crock of shit.” Seriously. Never tell me “nice adjectives” unless you’re 110 years old and you have a super-cute Maine accent.

Blum, blam.

What If?

After receiving my yearbook last night, I’m left with a few concerns: firstly, I only remember about half of the “remember when?” quandaries. Secondly, at least three of my ex-boyfriends are either pictured or mentioned in the yearbook… granted, one is on my page, but still. “Remember when: Simpdog?” Yes, yearbook committee. I remember. And I was really trying to forget.

My biggest concern, however, is with the yearbook “What If” section. I LIKE my hypothetical “what if Hope had Skinny Molly,” however, I find that there are several hypothetical “what ifs” that would have a whole lot more bearing on everyone’s high school experience had they actually occurred.

I will list them here.

1. What if Hope had simple, straightforward relationships?
U.S. History with Dave last year would have had a whole lot more actual class time. You all would have learned more. Also, people wouldn’t have had to hear me whining / shouting / actually crying in the student lounge. The phrase “boy-trubs” would probably never have been coined.

2. What if Hope didn’t always smell like cigarettes?
If I had a dollar for every time someone told me I smelled like smoke, I would be exponentially more wealthy than I am right now. I would also probably have more friends.

3. What if Hope wasn’t always judging us?
…I think about this one a lot.

4. What if Hope was anti-semitic?
Refer to #1.

5. What if Hope was good at Chemistry?
Seriously. What would I even DO? Life would be very different.

6. What if Hope was a die-hard Republican?

7. What if Hope handed assignments in on time?
…Hope would be going to an exponentially better college. There’s a “what if” for you, yearbook committee.

8. What if Hope had never discovered Lil’ Kim?

9. What if Hope was fanatically religious?
Scary, also implausible. What if, though?

10. What if Hope didn’t have a Facebook?
…SERIOUSLY though.

Blum, blam.

Goodnight: a Ten-Step Program

Why I Like Being Single: a Ten-Step Process.

1. SoBe tastes like ass and spices, and I don’t understand how it’s still on the market.
2. Using glass bottles for really cheap beverages seems somewhat wasteful. I don’t know how expensive glass is, or how biodegradable it is, but it feels pretty substantial to me.
3. I don’t give two fucks about the environment. I’d like to drive a hybrid car, just because it seems silly not to at this point. I will, however, leave every cigarette butt and gum wrapper that is readily at my disposal right smack in the middle of the sidewalk. Because I can. And I don’t understand how dropping my plastic spoon out the window of my hybrid car contributes to global warming… there, I said it. Shoot me, Al Gore.
4. I’m terribly afraid to swim in polluted water. Have you ever seen “The Fly?” I imagine myself looking like that guy afterwards, complete with open sores and missing limbs.
3. Ex-boyfriends are truly a species unto themselves. In addition to imagining myself looking like “The Fly” after swimming in polluted water, I imagine the majority of my ex-boyfriends looking more and more like “The Fly” for every second they continue to live after we have broken up.
2. The ex-boyfriends that do not belong to “The Fly” group are people I assume to have some sort of divine power. Literally. I’m pretty sure I’ve dated at least two or three people who could potentially be the messiah.
1. What would Hillary Clinton do?

Blum, blam.

Contrary to Popular Belief…

…I am not good at everything.
This has recently come to my attention in a big, big way: not only are there some academic areas that I seem wholly unable to excel in, there are also some LIFE areas in which I fall seriously short of the acceptable standard. Because I like to flaunt my inadequacies, and also because I know you don’t believe I’m not good at everything, I will now compile a list I will call: Ten Things I Wish I Was Better At.

 

Ten Things I Wish I Was Better At.

1. Punctuality.
I’m never on time for anything. I always miss the first few minutes — be it a class, a movie, or even a first date, I guarantee you that I will roll up between five and ten minutes late. I’m not trying to be late. I actually strongly dislike when people attempt to be “fashionably late.” My continual lateness is just a genuine shortcoming — just once, I would really like to see what goes on during the first five minutes of any given event. I honestly do try to be on time. It just never works out that way.

 2. Not Falling in Love with Everyone.
If you were to ask me right now, I would probably tell you that I’m in love with anywhere between three and five different people. I can think of three offhand. I could probably think of more if I tried. While I’m able to consciously realize that being in love with everyone is wildly illegitimate, sometimes I simply can’t help myself. It’s not my fault. Everyone I know is worthy of being loved.

3. Not Judging You.
Sometimes, judging people can be fun… like when you’re sitting behind the glass at Coldstone with some friends, just actively judging everyone who walks by on the street. I feel like that kind of judging is ultimately harmless. I like to call it “people-watching.” Most people can keep their judgment under control, save it for “people-watching” episodes and perhaps the occasional “letting off some steam” type rant. Not me. I judge people ALL THE TIME. I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but everything you tell me gets judged. It’s not that I think I’m superior — very often, I judge people to be my superiors, mostly based on their clothing or their grade point average or what college they’re going to next year. The judgment is not always negative. But it’s certainly always present.

4. Being “Pretty.”
Before you qualify this as one of those standard teenage-style “I’m so ugly” rants, hear me out: it’s not that I think I’m essentially ugly or pretty. I just genuinely don’t understand “pretty.” Things that I think are “pretty” really just look ultra-weird to everyone else, and therefore, when I try to look “pretty,” I usually end up looking like a lunatic. I don’t understand what makeup is supposed to look like. I also don’t understand what one is supposed to wear to a “formal.” Or on a “date.” I usually look insane… and not necessarily in a good way.

5. Physics.
Physics is the one exception to my general abiding philosophy of “science sucks balls.” I took Physics last summer to avoid taking it during the real school year – go figure – and it was actually really interesting. The only problem is that I’m really no good at it. Here’s a secret: I’d absolutely love to be one of those crazy scientists who works on figuring out how to time travel or discover the Theory of Everything or find parallel universes. I’m just god-awful at Physics. And I sort of wish I wasn’t.

7. Not Yelling.
For what it’s worth, I yell a lot. I yell when I’m angry. I also yell when I’m excited, or when I think something is funny. I’m generally pretty good about not yelling angrily when I’m in a public place, but when I’m out and something is funny, I yell like you wouldn’t believe. It’s actually embarrassing. I have very little volume control.

8. Portion Control.
Let’s face it: I eat way too much. I try to control my portions. But I have no willpower at all.

9. Not Crying in Public.
Self-explanatory: shit happens.

10. Having a Work Ethic.
At all. Even a little one.

Blum, blam. 

Songs that Only I am Allowed to Like: A Second Installment.

Because my new haircut has inspired me to take my standard pretentious/judgmental practices to the next level, I will now compile the following list: Songs that Only I am Allowed to Like, but that You are Perhaps Allowed to Download.

Songs that Only I am Allowed to Like, but that You are Perhaps Allowed to Download.

1. “This Must Be the Place” by Talking Heads.

2. “Ask” by the Smiths.

3. “Just Like a Woman” by Bob Dylan.

4. “Where Does the Good Go?” by Tegan and Sara.

5. “Creator” by Santogold.

6. “Penelope” by Pinback.

7. “Emily” by Joanna Newsom.

8. “Promise” by CocoRosie.

9. “On a Neck, On a Spit” by Grizzly Bear.

10. “Late” by the Spinto Band.

Blum, blam: feel the burn.

Dear Admirals…

UPDATE: I spent the majority of this weekend either on airplanes or in airports. I’m not complaining per se… I understand that air travel is clearly necessary when commuting from Boston to New Orleans. However, while I was traveling with my family, I became aware of something new and exciting: apparently, I belong to the Admiral’s Club.

What is the Admiral’s Club, you say? I will tell you: the Admiral’s Club is a club that people join in order to gain access to a special room in the airport with large TVs, leather furniture, and free coffee and “snacks.” Sounds appealing, right?

WRONG. The Admiral’s Club blows. I have no idea how much money my parents are spending to be members of this “club,” but in an effort to get the most bang for my buck, I will here compile a list of things the Club could do in order to improve their standings.

Ten Things the Admiral’s Club can do to Improve Their Standings in My Book.

1. Butlers.
Again, I have no idea how much we’re paying for this. However, it seems only fitting that a room filled with leather chairs and large TVs (and complimentary coffee) would also come equipped with servants to deliver the coffee to your leather chair so that you don’t have to take a break from watching the large TV. Quite frankly, I was expecting servants. And now I’m let down.

2. SWAG.
When celebrities attend awards shows and promotional parties, they often receive SWAG. When I go to the Admiral’s Club, I would also like to receive SWAG. Again, this seems straightforward: Admiral’s Club, you have let me down.

3. A Bowling Alley.
I’ve been sitting all day. On an airplane. As nice as your leather chairs are, Admiral’s Club, I would much rather bowl.

4. Vegetarian Options.
I’m hungry too, Admirals.

5. Smoker’s Lounge.
…seriously, let’s say my flight lasted 4 hours. WHICH IT DID. That’s a long time for some people to have to go. And now that I’m in an environment where it is technically safe for me to smoke, i.e. not on an airplane, I would like my needs to be facilitated. This doesn’t take much, maybe like… an ashtray and a sliding door to seclude me from the non-smokers. Get on your game.

6. Baby Pandas.
…what WOULDN’T be better without baby pandas?

7.  Cookies that are Not Pre-Packaged.
I’m PAYING for this. I don’t care if you feed me Nestle Break-n-Bake… but seriously, Chips Ahoy? On a glass tray? You’re not fooling me, Admirals.

8. Pool Boys.
I understand that there is no pool. What I do not understand is why this translates into not having pool boys.

9. Movie Theater Popcorn with Corresponding Butter.
…free of charge.

10. Real Admirals.
Who seriously knows what an “admiral” is? Personally, I think it’s some sort of military officer. Or something. Also, I’m probably the only one who doesn’t know what an “admiral” is. However, it seems fitting to have ADMIRALS in the ADMIRAL’S CLUB. Perhaps I am asking too much.

Blum, blam.