When butter flies

Um, so March is tomorrow? When did this happen? That honestly blows my teeny-tiny mind. MARCH, y'all.

If you don't know, March = mah birfday. It's not anything exciting, and it's not a big birthday. I'm kind of in limbo, at the moment -- somewhere in between a large birthday and another large birthday. (Y'know, like between 40 and 50. Except not.)

But I really can't believe that I'm now entering midterm territory again. Was it not just October midterms?!? How is it March already, really?!?!? I'll be going home soon for spring break (ahhhhh--flying--NOT LOOKING FORWARD TO IT) too and that is equally amazing.

I know they say as you get older time starts going faster and faster. But TIME, PLEASE WILT THOU SLOWEST DOWNEST, ohprettyplease. I'm not ready for this school year to be over! I just started college! It was just August 29th and I was freaked out about moving up here. Now? The year's practically over.

Though I do have one exception for the whole time-is-flying-by thing: next Thursday I get my final answer about being an RA next year. I had an interview yesterday with three people on the RA selection process and I think it went well -- my own RA stopped by my room last night and told me she'd heard good things about me. So I am hopeful. But time *does* need to hurry up and make it be Thursday already.

And then slow down again.


Swivel me tender

You guys, I have discovered a little something wonderful here at DreamSchool.

What is it, you ask? Well, let me show you.


That's right. In one of my classes, we now have these bad boys. It is so amazing because I can actually adjust the chair so it's lower to the ground AND *GASP* MY FEET CAN TOUCH THE GROUND!!! This is huge people!

I sit through most of my classes (well, 3 out of 4 now) constantly crossing and recrossing my legs in an attempt to get comfortable -- cause sitting there with my legs dangling off the edge of the seats hurts my hips, especially when I'm sitting for between an hour and two hours straight. Sometimes I'll make a little step stool out of textbooks for my feet to rest on, but that's just inconvenient for anybody who needs to walk past me. So this new acquisition of DreamSchool's? A+ IN MY BOOK.

But the absolute best part about these chairs?

They swivel, too. SOMUCHFUN.


Girls don't like boys...

...girls like cars and moneyyyy... (Anyone? Teenybopper reference? Good Charlotte? No? Crickets? Oh well.)

BUT. I consider myself a rather feminist-y, independent person. Sure, my life's ambition is really to be a stay-at-home-mother (and that goes against what most feminists believe is an honorable achievement) but my opinion is this: I'll be doing what I really, truly, honestly want to do regardless of what others think. Isn't that really what feminism is all about?

(That was a huge digression.)

About the feminist-y/independence: that counts for just about everything except this whole living-in-a-big-city thing I've got going on. I'm in a fairly prominent city, and while I'm in a safe area, it is a large city and with that comes risks. I know someone who was mugged a few weeks ago -- walking on a safe street in the evening by himself, four guys approached him, showed him they had a knife, and took his cell phone and wallet. So you really do have to be careful here.

Because of that, I almost always travel places with guys. Not so much when I'm taking the subway, but if I'm walking somewhere especially at night, I'll make sure to either have a guy friend or several girl friends with me. You know, the whole safety in numbers philosophy.

But my girl friends and I were talking about it recently. We notice a HUGE difference in how we're treated if we have a guy with us. If it's just us girls, we get lots of whistles and cat calls. My friend got hit on at Mass, as a matter of fact. But it's not just positive (well, the word 'positive' is relative) attention we get. Another friend, when walking by herself, was honked at and told to "Get out of the way, bitch!" -- which probably wouldn't have happened if we had a guy friend with us.

I suppose that's the price we have to pay as girls. It's not like we're flaunting what we've got (on the contrary, it's freezing here so we're all bundled up), but still. I never had this kind MUCH attention in Texas. That makes me wonder--is it a different, less respectful attitude up north? Or is it because I'm outside and exposed to so many more people?

On a semi-related note, we had a debate in one of my classes recently about benevolent sexism. I was the *only* person in my class from south of the Mason-Dixon line, and I was the *only* person in my class who argued that when a man holds a door open for a woman, or gives up his seat on the subway, it's not because he's disrespecting her -- it's because he's respecting her.




(Stolen from mah sistah for Niobe.)

Top: My dad, my mom
Bottom: My sister, me


The Giant Purple Polo incident

So yesterday at work they gave us all matching polo shirts to wear during important events. Today was an important event.

But oh, the drama. The Giant Purple Polo drama.

When they gave me my polo yesterday, all I checked to see was that it was, indeed, a medium (just like I'd ordered). It wasn't until I got back to my dorm room and the office had closed that I unfolded the shirt, held it up, and realized it was GIGANTIC.

Pretend this little girl is me and that the shirt is, in fact, a large purple polo. But this is about how the polo fit me:

Mmmmmm yep. A little big. But like I said, the office was closed so I couldn't try to exchange the polo for a smaller size. I don't have anyone's cell phone numbers so I couldn't call any of my supervisors -- all I had was a glorious little invention called Facebook to help me.

After Facebook stalking several of my bosses (none of their profiles listed cell numbers, but they did list screen names--BUT OF COURSE none of them were online) all I could do was leave FB up and hope someone would get on FB chat.

And wait.

In the meantime, one of my friends brought over several belts in attempt to "fashionize" the Giant Purple Polo, to no avail. One of my roommates, who specializes in costume design, even tried to safety pin the shirt in several places in an attempt to make it more form-fitting...but NOTHING WORKED.

One of my supervisors finally got on FB chat, but she didn't know if I could get a smaller size for the very important day today. So, resigned, I went to bed.

This morning, I got up at the crack of dawn and got ready to leave for work (since it was an important day, I was working extra). Just as I was running out the door I stopped to use the restroom. I was already running slightly late. So of COURSE there had to be more drama, right?

So.....my zipper broke on my jeans. On the only remaining pair of jeans I own (the new GAP ones, not the ripped ones but the ones that stretched out so much that they fall down). WONDERFUL.

I fly back to my room and put on my old Old Navy jeans--the ones that now have holes on the inside of each thigh cause my legs rub together. Luckily you can't tell unless I go into the splits, but let me just tell you that it still is NOT COOL. Those jeans are also really frayed and worn at the bottom (not that professional). But they were pants, and all I had, so I went with them.

The good thing was that they had another polo in a smaller size, so that worked out. And I did fabulously at work today, which was even better. And since I worked extra, I have more spending money! Ka-ching, baby.

(For what it's worth, I spent $6.50 watching a laser show at the science place centered around Queen songs. It was an excellent investment. So what if I don't get to buy yogurt this week?)


Turnaround of Murphy's Law

I got good news today -- I'm through to step 2 of the R.A. selection process!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Tomorrow I'll schedule an interview with one of the heads of housing plus several resident directors. It should take place sometime next week, and a bit after that, I should get a final answer. I'm really excited that I got through this part, though I know not to get my hopes up too high. Only 15% of the applicants will ultimately be RAs, so odds are not in my favor. But we'll see!

Blogger HALP

So I'm slightly befuddled as to why no posts are showing up on the main page of my blog...? Do y'all see anything? If I click on my archives on the left, I see posts, but nothing on plain old theonlinenannydiaries.blogspot.com. This is mainly a test post to see if anything changes and/or if it shows up in Bloglines. Lalala, test post.

Edited to add: Okay, now everything is working again. That was weird. Never mind!


I look at all the lonely people

I'm always a bit discombobulated after someone who's come to see me here at DreamSchool leaves. My sister just left (this morning) after a long weekend, and it was great! We had so much fun.

We ate ridiculously large amounts of yummy food, shopped for clothes and shoes (and, as it turns out, baby clothes...), and were all tourist-y in the general DreamSchool vicinity. Since I don't have school today, it's a nice end to a really nice weekend. As I did the four (yep) loads of laundry that I've been putting off for weeks, and tidied up my room, I felt rather lonely.

I don't miss home, per se, very much. I miss my puppy a LOT, and my crazy bird, and D., and my parents and sister, but I've not been really homesick up here until someone leaves. I felt the same way after my mom left from parents weekend, and D. left in November. A general lonely glum. But the good news is that I'll be home within a month!

Wow. Within a month. Next month I'll be home for spring break, and then D. comes up here in April, and then I go back home in May. I can't believe how fast this year has passed! I'm really happy I took the year off because most of my friends are itching to get out of college and go into the workforce, while I've been there, done that, and am enjoying college while I have it because I know it doesn't last long!

Also within a month? Is my birthday. Holy jesus mother almighty, it crept up on me. Just a little heads up: I'll be having another Confession Post around my birthday. Start thinking of your secrets!

(P.S. Comments off for this post cause, um, there's not really much to comment about. And I hate staring at the little "0 Comments" bit.)


My funny Valentine('s Day)

What have I done on Valentine's Day?

1. Shopped a LOT (and bought a few things! Look below!)
2. Ate nom nom NOMMY food

What have I done on Valentine's Night?

1. Watched these guys:

And then these guys (I know, I know. HUSH):

2. Had a fantastic date with these guys:

Or rather...this:

In other words, NOM. So it's been a pretty good day. But nothing beats what I'll be doing later tonight:
shaving my legs. Can you stand the excitement? I know I can't. But no pictures of my legs. Cause, um, NO.

I couldn't help myself

So...today while out shopping with my sister (who's in town, by the way!), I made two purchases.

The first:

I got these from Urban Outfitters for only $4.99 but in a delicious chocolate brown (I. LOVE. CHOCOLATE. BROWN). They are sooooo comfy and I'm wearing them right now.

The second?

Oh...I can't believe I'm admitting this. This is the second (my talented sister took the pictures):

Yeah. So that, ladies and gentlemen, is a teeny-tiny dress. A baby dress. Like for a baby. A real live baby. Except I? Am QUITE a few years from even thinking about real live babies.

So why did I buy the baby dress? Oh, let me count the ways. First of all, it's vintage from the 70s. I *love* that. Plus, it was only $3. And the third reason?

Just look how sweet the little lace ruffles are.

I just couldn't pass that up. So now I have a baby dress, a sweet little baby dress, and I'm rather madly in love with it. Along with my chocolate brown moccasins.


Fancy tag

I've been tagged! Thank you to Stephany at Season of Singleness to do a quick purse reveal!

So here are the rules:

1) Post a picture of whatever bag you are carrying as of late. No, you cannot go up to your closet and pull out that cute little purse you used back before you had kids. I want to know what you carried today or the last time you left the house. No cheating!

2) I want to know how much it cost And this is not to judge. This is for entertainment purposes only. So spill it. And if there is a story to go along with how you obtained it, I’d love to hear it.

3) Tag some chicks. And link back to this post so people know why the heck you’re showing everyone your bag.

Ahhhh...so some of your older readers may remember this purse. I carried that bad boy around for a LONG time, but enough was enough! Like it did for Stephany, Payless came to the rescue for me! :-)

So it's not too exciting, but it's a really pretty chocolate brown and *ooh!* it has shiny straps on it. I got it on sale for $17.

Blah, blah, blah, crummy cell phone picture, blah, blah, blah...

As for tagging goes...oh lord, this IS like high school again. I tag:


P.S. I'm expecting some comment lurve from y'all assuring me that my new purse is, in fact, very cute.


There's a GAP in my jeans

So while I was home over break, my darling mother and I went shopping in search of jeans.

I know, I know. We're crazy. But still. They were DESPERATELY needed.

I had previously only had one pair, my one, reliable, trusty Old Navy bootcuts. But they were starting to fall apart completely after daily wear. See, as a human being, jeans are not easy to find that will fit me. We ALL have that problem. And it sucks. So I was *not* looking forward to this whole shopping-for-jeans extravaganza.


Luck was on my side!!! On a whim we went to a store (I won't mention its name for fear of beings sued...but check the title of this post if you're curious) to check out the sale stuff and guess what! We found jeans! TWO PAIRS OF JEANS THAT FIT ME AND LOOKED GOOD!!!

Here are the strikes against me with jeans:
1. I'm short. REALLY short. Any jeans that I buy will automatically need to be tailored at least 6 inches. So I always mentally add that cost into the "Can I really afford these jeans?" arguement.
2. I'm curvy. REALLY curvy. I have a mighty fine ass, but tree trunk thighs. Couple that with being short? You've got a problem, sistah.
3. My torso is really short. More specifically, my crotch-to-belly button length is really short. Even extra low rise hits me about an inch below my belly button. I am not kidding.

(Side note: While trying on a pair of plain low rise (not extra low rise) jeans, I stepped out of the stalls to get the input of the sales rep. "Oh, looks GREAT!" she said. "But let me get you a low rise. Those high rises are so unflattering on you!"


I was wearing a low rise already. Not a high rise. But thanks anyway.)

But I did find two pairs that fit me really well! I was beyond ecstatic. We got them hemmed, I loved them, and back up to DreamSchool I went.

Well...turns out everything wasn't all sunshines and roses in the jeans department. After wearing the first pair of jeans twice, they stretched out so much that they literally fall off my hips while I walk. No amount of drying them in the dryer will make them fit for more than an hour before stretching out again. And I can't wear belts, because see #3 above (they'd pooch out under my shirts).

And pair #2? Oh, I loved pair #2. Here, here's a picture for your visual interest:

(Disclaimer: those are not my legs. I WISH they were my legs.)

But anyway. Pair #2...they were so wonderful. I wore them almost every day for two whole weeks until--! RI-I-I-I-I-I-I-P.

I accidentally stepped ON MY OWN HEEL and they ripped apart at the back near my ankle--a huge, six-inch gash. Luckily, there's a girl on campus who sews so she fixed them for $3. WHEW.

Until three days later, I was sitting at my desk doing homework and NOT MOVING, and RI-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-P. This time? Approximately two inches from my crotch on the inside of my leg. UM SO NOT OKAY. I took them back to the girl, $2 later, they were mended. I got them back last night, and put them on this morning. And guess what. RIP.

Now this is getting ridiculous. The girl is fixing them again, but is this normal? I've never bought jeans from, uh, the store with three capital letters as its title before. And they weren't cheap jeans. Since they're so worn, hemmed, and mended, would they even take them back? The fabric on them just seems to be really flimsy, which is weird. The other pair is much sturdier but I can't wear it anymore since it's so stretched out.

Basically, I'm out $120 (jeans, hemming, and mending&remending) and have nothing to show for it. So I'm back to my trusty Old Navy jeans that may or may not be getting holes between my legs from where my thighs rub together when I walk.

Lovely, right?



Missing out on life

Whilst doing some reading for my history class, I came across a passage that described the origins of what's stereotypically known as southern (or soul) food. And it listed those foods. Okra, yams, black eyed peas, creamed/fried corn, etc.


My mouth was watering within seconds. I miss my good ol' southern comfort food. I haven't had any of it since I moved up north -- and my roomies and friends up here (all northerners) are less than excited to go in search of greasy fried food. OH, healthy northerners. They are NO fun.

While reading about the yummy yummy foods I may have let out a teeny-tiny audible groan. Or moan. Not sure which. But it caused both of my roommates and the two friends in the room to look up at me.

"You OK?" they asked.
"Noooooo," I moaned/replied. "I want some fried okraaaaaa."

Blank stares all around. That was one of the instances in which I realized JUST HOW DIFFERENT the south and north are. They'd never had okra. Plain or fried. Any of them. They didn't even know what it looked like.

Oh, sweet jesus, they haven't lived.

Further investigation revealed that they'd never had creamed OR fried corn either. Or black eyed peas with cornbread. Or anything good, apparently. What? People up north don't like to cook all the nutrition out of their vegetables and legumes and then fry what's left?

The whole conversation left me very sad. I just can't imagine a life without fried vegetable-y goodness. The closest thing I've had up here to southern food is the few times when our school's cafeteria served hush puppies, but those were BAKED, not fried -- sad shells of their deliciously greasy counterparts. I nearly cried when I ate them. "YOU PEOPLE ARE MISSING OUT ON SO MUCH!" I may or may not have yelled.

Me? Melodramatic? NAH.

Now don't get me wrong -- it's not like I eat this stuff every day at home. It's just on rare (but wonderful) occasions when we cook a nice, proper southern meal. I *long* for those days. It's been far too long since we've had one of those days.

Only a month left 'til I'm home for spring break. And you better believe we'll be having a southern dinner then.


In case you hadn't seen this...

(7-year-old boy high as heck on laughing gas from an oral surgery he had)

I know this is horrible...but it's just so pathetically funny.


Murphy's Law

So, um, the past 48 hoursish have been rather stressful. Allow me to unleash what I'm probably WAY over dramaticizing in my head, but whatever.

(OH. But before I begin. My lovely mother brought to attention my rather glaring typo two posts ago--yes, I know 'dormitory' is not spelled with an 'a'. I was just temporarily not thinking. Which probably isn't the best way to blog. BUT ANYWAY. My apologies.)


I had a great day Monday. Classes were good, homework was a moderate load but nothing unmanageable. I finished it by 11 and decided to get ready and go to bed EARLY! As I was getting my jammies, one of my roommates asked what the date was.

"Feb. 1!" I said.
"No, it's Feb. 2," my other roommate said.

Um, she was right. It was the 2nd. Which meant my R.A. applications were due THAT DAY AT 4 P.M. NO EXCEPTIONS OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD SHIT.

I was already 7 hours past deadline. And they had said multiple times, NO EXCEPTIONS.


I e-mailed the director and explained the situation. I was going to meet with him the next day to talk about who I could use as references, but obviously that meeting wouldn't be necessary if he wouldn't take my application. Needless to say, it was 11 p.m. so I didn't hear back from him that night. Instead, I got my booty into gear and threw together my entire application in 2 hours and went to BED.

The next morning, I had an 8 a.m. class, but the R.A. office opened at 8:45 and I wanted to have the application there the minute it opened. So at 8:40 I left class, FLEW to the R.A. office, talked to one of the women there who told me she didn't know if he'd still take it but to bring it back for my appointment later, and FLEW back to class.

The next few hours I was so nervous I could barely function. I *needed* him to at least look at my application cause well, free room and board is NICE. And I really do want to be an R.A. even without the money, cause I'm all nannylike and such. Plus I felt like a big fat dumb butt (chickenbutt) for screwing up the dates.

After the class before the meeting, I took out my phone to take a picture of the snow. Cause it was snowing!!! Unfortch...I promptly (and accidentally) dropped my phone. It broke in to four pieces. And I broke into tears.

But it was time for the meeting. I met with him and he was really nice. He asked me to explain the situation, and I did, and added that this is TOTALLY unlike me--which it is. He thought about it, asked me some questions, and finally decided he would accept my late application!!!!!! I was thrilled. We had a great conversation about that. He went to college in Texas, so we had a nice bonding moment over that :-)

As for my phone? Well, I've managed to sort-of get it back together. It works, but it's *very* fragile. Today I went to RadioShack, but they couldn't help me and directed me to the AT&T store. The AT&T people (pardon me) were buttheads, and couldn't help me either, but said I could call the warranty line and they'd help me. So I did, and spent 20 minutes on the phone with a woman who I could understand maybe 3 words out of 20. Basically, at the end of that 20 minute convo, she said I had to go BACK to the AT&T store because THEY were the ones who were supposed to help me. At that point, though, I had to get home, so I'll have to go back on Friday late afternoon since it's my only block of free time. Unfortch, the AT&T store is a good 2 mile walk away (I'm NOT paying $4 to take the subway 4 miles), so that takes a while to get there too.

But it's good exercise!!!


I figured it out!

My entire floor spent the majority of last week in a fairly large funk. None of us could put our finger on exactly WHY we were all so down, but now we know!

It all makes sense now!

(Image from PostSecret.)


A dirty dilemma

So this post will be a very brief, but very INTENSE, complaint about laundry. (So that's why I said "dirty" dilemma! Get it? Dirty laundry! Zing! Thankyouverymuch!)

DEAR DREAMSCHOOL. (Yes, a period.)

There are close to 1000 people living in MyDormatory (side note: does it annoy the heck out of y'all the way I put words together like that? DreamSchool? MyCity? MyDormatory? Yeah, that last one's a stretch. It's starting to annoy me.) (Can you tell I'm rather ADD today? Must be the waffles I had for breakfast combined with the Nantucket Nectar I used to chase the waffle.) ANYWAY STARTING OVER.

There are close to 1000 people living in MyDormatory. Does it not occur to you that we'll need more than 18 washers and 18 dryers? Especially on a day like today WHERE THERE ARE PEOPLE CAMPED OUT IN THE LAUNDRY ROOM READY TO POUNCE ON THE NEXT AVAILABLE WASHER/DRYER LIKE ANIMALS? DOES IT NOT OCCUR TO YOU THAT YOU ARE TURNING YOUR STUDENTS INTO ANIMALS?!?!?

On the one hand, it was a great leg work out dragging a bag full o' dirty laundry up, and then down, five flights of stairs trying to find empty dryers. On the other hand? IT WAS ANNOYING. Not to mention the DIRTY LOOKS I got from people who were waiting in line five and ten people deep.

Le. Sigh.

If I could conceivably trek to the nearest laundromat to do my laundry, I would. But it's bitingly cold outside and I don't really feel like walking two miles in single-digit temperatures carrying LOTS OF DIRTY LAUNDRY THANK YOU VERY MUCH.

Excuse me, I have to run now. The washer I've got my clothes in will be done in 25 minutes so I need to start looking for a free dryer NOW.


P.S. Please accept me into your honor's program AND make me an R.A.! Happy February!