I hate allergies!!!

My eyes are itchy and runny. My nose is itchy and runny. I have spent so much time rubbing my eyes and blowing my nose that they are both peeling. I have sneezing fits that last for sometimes 10 or 12 sneezes at a time. Argh. Oh allergies, please leave me in peace. If you could find it in your heart to allow me to enjoy the warm weather that is so fleeting in upstate New York, I would truly appreciate it. This picture is a representation of the crappiness of my current miserable condition...

Elephant Gun

One of my favorite bands, Beirut, has a new video and here it be... Whatdya think?

Ramblings...

Things have been so busy lately. And for those of you who know me, you know that I relish my down time. I love to spend time doing very little. Some of the things I spend time doing are talking to Dave about everything from the completely inane to the completely mind boggling. I also love to rub Freud's belly and ears, read, watch irrelevent tv, and watch Dave cook.

I haven't had time enough to do these things as much as I would like to. I have been traveling quite a bit lately and finals are coming up next week. Last weekend was spent hopping around VIrginia from one end to the other. I watched a few little league games. My nephew Trystan plays soccer, my lil' cousin Brianna plays softball. Soccer was okay. Baseball was really boring. But I did learn one thing about my hometown Luray that I was strangley unaware of. Apparently, the little leaguer's parents have a difficult time remaining sober throughout the 2 hour game. So they all have to sign a pledge that they will not consume alcohol on the premises while the kids are playing. Huh?? Do you just get so passionate about the game you have to drink to steal your nerves??

I am not sure that this Blog is really going anywhere so I think I will try and wrap it up. I am tired and I wanna have some time to do the things I like. I want Spring to be far enough along that my eyes are no longer swollen and making me look like I got beat up. I want finals to be through so that I don't have to sit through Sign Language anymore. And most of all I want next Friday to come as quickly as possible. Because then I will be on vacation for ten days. And trust me, I plan on spending most of that ten days being lazy.

Larry King is a Douche

With all of the guilt the media is trying to lay at the feet of Virginia Tech faculty, movies, video games, the police, and the people who were acquainted with Cho Seung-Hui why does no one question how a man who had been deemed a danger to himself and others acquire a gun? If we are so consumed with finding fault with someone, let's point the finger in the right direction. As far as I'm concerned my anger is directed at the assholes who oppose stronger gun control laws. I'm looking at you Charlton Heston.

I'm taking my beer.

Wow! This little girls parents have set her on the path to boozerville all for the sake of funny. Is it wrong? I can't decide. But it is HI-larious!

We Don't Care About the Young Folks

I am obsessed with this song right now. Probably becauser it's the coolest!!! Check out the video. It doen't get any better than this! ;) What do you think???

News Schmews

Is anyone else sick of hearing about Anna Nicole Smith and Don Imus? Why is the media completely unwilling to talk about anything substantial. When Anna Nicole was alive no one spent much time thinking about her. You saw her in the press occassionally making a fool of herself and it was sad and uncomfortable to watch and that was that. But I put CNN on and now all I hear about is Anna Nicole and her kid. I am sad for her daughter and all but there are so many more important issues that should be brought to the forefront and instead we have to watch clips of Anna Nicole all valiumed up making an ass of herself everytime we turn on the television.

That said you would think that I would be pleased with the more socially relevent news of Don Imus being a complete idiot. The problem there is that it's like, "okay we get it. The guy's a douche bag. Can we move on?" People who say the guy needs to be fired are thinking of this entirely from an emotional standpoint. It's called freedom of speech. If we shut him down, who's next? So he said he was sorry, the Rutgers ladies made their speech. Get over it now. Sheesh!

No Habla Sign Language

I am an ASL illiterate. I am taking part two of a two semester Sign Language course right now and I am growing more and more irritated. I am completely lacking the part of the brain that makes sense of all foreign languages or American Sign Language. My professor, though completely mind bendingly difficult to understand, is really funny and super fair. But there is simply a disconnect for us because she speaks ASL and I speak Idiot.

The ironic part is that I took ASL rather than Spanish or French because I stupidly assumed it would be so much easier. But instead I spend the 2.5 hours a week with a completely befuddled expression on my face and sweat beading on my forehead from pure and utter exasperation. She tells funny stories all the time that I just don't follow, well I assume there funny because everyone else is laughing. She gives us assignments and I turn in an altogether ridiculous amalgamation of all the instructions I was able to gather. After she says anything she looks at me and signs, "Do you understand?" Which is really embarrassing because I am clearly the weird older lady in the room. So you'd think I would get this before the half drunk 19 year olds but it just isn't the case.

I am desperate to be through with this semester for a couple reasons. First, I can't bear to sit through this lesson in my own scholastic limitations much longer. Second, I transfer to an entirely different and, in my grass is always greener view, much better school after this month. So I guess I just have to suffer through my ASL ineptitude for a bit longer.

Les Touristes Américains Stupides

Dave and I are in Montreal for the weekend and we are completely in love!! It is really an incredible city. I will be writing a much more in depth synopsis of our trip when I get home but I had to vent my frustrations before they made me say something that would get my ass kicked... So here goes.

Americans are assholes. Seriously. And we wonder why people hate us so much. Okay, please bear with me on this one, I do recognize that there are many of us who do not act like the people I am about to describe but unfortunately these people make the most noise so they are the most noticable. There are two sets of assholes I am referring to in particular but please don't allow this to fool you into thinking that they were the only two groups we have encountered.

Dave and I were walking all day and were cold and exhausted so we decided to stop and get a cup at a bustling cafe. There was still construction going on so the place was clearly brand new and it was packed so as you might expect the staff was very stressed and looked ragged. They were, however, super friendly and pretty efficient considering. There was only one customer ahead of us in line when we walked in and she appeared really confused and had no idea what she was ordering for the 7 people who were with her. But rather than step out of line and confer with her companions and allow the line to move along she decided to yell across the cafe to her family and fumble through several order changes while the ever expanding line waited. Finally after what seemed like hours she was finished and Dave and I moved on to order. Right in the middle of placing our order she barged back in front of us and started berating the two guys behind the counter for missing her caesar salad. The thing is, the guys had already told her that they were out of salad. She of course was insistent that they had not mentioned this. So we wait again for another ten minutes for her to complete her tirade and leave.

Then this evening after dinner Dave and I were walking back to our B & B and we walked past this group of college aged guys. They start shouting that "the Peel Pub sucks" because they only show hockey games on their televisions. I suppose in their drunken stupor these guys forgot that they were in friggin' Canada! What did they expect to see on the TV? Hockey = Canada, idiots. You could see what everyone staring at them was thinking, "Go home f-ing tourists." I know these looks all too well, because what I read on those faces was what I felt everyday living in New Orleans. So for the rest of our trip I will be on a mission to prove that not all Americans are stupid Americans.

Shop Girls

When I was six years old Denise Austin was my hero. She was so blonde and pretty. She was like a really fit Barbie doll. My mom had a Denise Austin workout record that had this giant fold-out poster of Denise illustrating the different exercises. My mother, sister and I would gather around the poster and sweat to the Banana Boat Song. All the while I would dream of the day that my unruly red curls and freckles would melt away and I would sprout long flowing locks of bleach blonde that I would wear in a side ponytail. Hugging the curves of my lean, fat free body would be a turquoise and white striped leotard. My white high top Reeboks and hot pink leg warmers would 1 and 2 and 3 to the beat of Harry Belafonte.

On one such morning, following our workout, my mother left for a long day of work at the Wrangler factory, leaving my sister Jennifer and me with her best friend Cara. Cara was a regular fixture in our apartment. She was young, like my mother, and fun. Cara always smelled like woodchips, grass and stale beer. Her family owned the Shenandoah River Outfitters; they rented canoes, kayaks, and fishing gear in Luray, Virginia where I grew up. She spent much of her time outside and was always tan and just a little dirty.

The three of us sat down to watch Purple Rain. Purple Rain was my favorite movie. Prince was so beautiful and I always insisted on sitting close to the screen so that every time there was a close-up I could give him a kiss.

Cara must have had a long night, because she was asleep before the end of the movie.

"Now what are we gonna do?" I asked looking at our sleeping entertainer.

"I dont know. Do you wanna play school?" This was Jennifers common response. She always wanted to play school just so she could show me how smart she was. She was two years older than I but she acted like she was 10 years older. Jennifer spent hours upon hours trying to teach me to read. So much so, that when I got to kindergarten, the teacher didnt have anything left to teach me.

"No, thats boring!" I exclaimed. "I wanna do somethin' fun! Lets build a fort."

"No, thats stupid. You wanna make our own store? We could do it in our closet. It would be fun!"

I nodded excitedly and we began to gather our toys. Jennifer and I had the biggest bedroom in the apartment. My mom thought it would be the fairest thing since we had to share the room. Our favorite place to play was the huge walk-in closet. It was always transformed into forts, restaurants, schools, homes, anything that our imaginations could conjure. This morning it was destined to be a store. Barbie, Ken and Skipper were set up in the Barbie kitchen snacking on hot dogs. Legos were stacked into buildings and houses. Our Atari games were arranged in alphabetical order: ET, Pac-Man, Pitfall, and Space Invaders.

Everything was ready. Now all we needed was customers. Jennifer and I marched throughout the apartment complex collecting our friends, asking, "Can Crystal come out and play?" being sure to remind Crystal to bring her allowance. She'd need it for this game. We proceeded in this way until we had gathered all of our friends.

"Guys, remember that Cara is sleeping. So you gotta be quiet or well get in trouble!" Jennifer warned as we arrived at our front door.

One by one we crept by our guardian, asleep on the couch. We led our new patrons through the hall and into our room. There we briefed them on how the game was to be played. The kids began looking around our closet and summing up our merchandise.

"How much do I have to pay for Skipper?" Heather, a tall and gangly third grader asked.

"Thats my favorite. She costs, um, 27 cents." I answered.

"I just got a dime and four pennies."

"Oh. Well you can have Ken for that much cause he doesnt got any hair anyways," I said.

Things continued in this fashion until we were almost out of toys and the other kids were completely out of money. After everyone left, Jennifer and I rejoiced in all of our earnings.

"I hope Mommy will take us to Jamesway when she gets home" Jennifer said.

"Me too! I wanna get a He-Man and She-Ra! They are so cool."

The remainder of our day was spent counting and recounting our riches, fantasizing about all the new stuff we were going to buy.

When our mother got home we pounced on her. "Can we go to Jamesway, Mommy? Please! We got all this money and we dont got toys anymore so we gotta buy new ones!" I pleaded.

"What are you talking about? What are they talking about, Cara?" my mother asked sternly. Cara was just as confused as Mom, still drowsy after sleeping through the days exciting events. Jennifer and I explained to our mother about our recent business venture and how we sold our toys to our friends.

"What in the world possessed you to do that?" she yelled.

"We were booooored, Mommy!" I whined, "And we made lots of money." We presented our hands, full of coins and flashed our most pathetic pouts.

"You will return this money now and I dont want to see you back here until you have all of your toys back!"

Her lips were tightly pursed and her brow heavy. Her glare cut into the heart of Jennifer and she began to cry, "But Mommy, we wanted to buy new toys!"

"GO!"

Jennifer dropped her head and turned to walk out of the door. I gave my mom the meanest look I could muster and shouted, "You are so mean!"

I stomped after Jennifer and slammed the door as hard as I could. The whole time I thought to myself, it just wasnt fair. We had worked so hard. We had earned the money and now she was making us give it back. No one made her give her money back!

We proceeded to go door to door begging for our toys and returning the hard earned money, we had so painstakingly attained. At each we stared at the ground, kicked at the dirt, and muttered, "Can we have our toys back? Our mom is real mad at us."

When we were finished we carried all of our stuff back to our apartment and our mother told us that we had to put everything back where it belonged.

I slammed around the house all evening. I wouldnt eat my dinner. With every ounce of willpower I channeled my energy into staying angry with my mother. She was losing her patience with me quickly and told me that if I couldnt act like a six year old I could go straight to bed. I stood up from the table, looked at her and shouted, "You are the meanest mom ever and I never wanna speak to you again!" I quickly stormed out of the room, threw myself on my bed and cried myself to sleep.

The next morning Jennifer and I, in our usual morning ritual, tip toed out of our room and Jennifer made us cereal. We sat down on the couch and watched our favorite cartoons, The Smurfs and The Snorks, until my mother woke up.

She stumbled out drowsily to prepare her coffee. Jennifer and I waited for her to finish her morning brew quietly. Soon she stood over the couch, looked down at Jennifer and me and said, "Okay girls, turn off the TV. Im putting on the Denise Austin record."