Get Pumped

Gotta do it. I love pump up videos for the NBA and this one is gearing me up for tonight against the Heat. BronBron can suck it.

Here is the video of my fave Rondo doing what I called the "Scramble and Shoot" against the Magic in the 2010 playoffs. I said Scramble and Shoot around 50 times that night and everyone wanted to kill me. Too bad. Rondo is awesome. 

Losing My Way

Last year I started doing this thing where I would disappear from a party and no one would know where I went. At a certain point, it's just time to go home, but for me, I didn't like to let people know I was at that point.  Usually I drop the, "Oh, I'll be right back," or, "I'm just gonna run to the bathroom," and then bail.  I guess I don't want to have to explain why I am leaving or to have to wait around for the rest of the group.  Or I'm just an idiot.

It is okay to leave a party and walk home alone in Collegetown since the farthest you are going is probably around two blocks. But leaving a bar in an actual city (or in a different country) is not the smartest thing to do. My mom would not be proud of me.

I studied abroad in Copenhagen, Denmark, this past spring, and lucky for me it is a very safe city. It is also lucky that I am white and blond (read: not a Turkish immigrant). I left the group multiple times in CPH and made it home safely every time, but if I had been anywhere else, I would not have lasted a month. I would probably be lying in a ditch somewhere in Eastern Europe, or better yet, had been sold into white slavery/become a mail-order bride (I survived Russia, guys!).

One night early on in the semester our large group split up with intentions of meeting at a main bar downtown a little later. Being of the latter and smaller group, I only had a few people to latch onto. Unfortunately for me, they were all spitting game at Danish men.  I figured I would just head to the other bar to meet up with everyone else. Too bad I was leaving a place called L.A. Tequila Bar and too bad I had just moved to CPH and knew none of the streets.  I wandered around the city for close to an hour before finding the other bar. And the pathetic thing is, I knew exactly how to get there.  There is a main walking street that goes from City Hall Square to Kings Square, two main areas of Copenhagen. All I had to do was follow it. There is one section of the street in the middle, however, that confuses the shit out of everyone. It totally throws you off and you have no idea which direction you came from, which direction you want to go, or why you are even there. I hit Kings Square three times despite turning around every time to head to City Hall Square. It's like the Bermuda Triangle or a vortex or something. Or, again, I'm just an idiot. I finally made it to the bar, shoes in one hand, and plopped down in the corner, exhausted. Someone handed me a beer and I stared at the wall until we left 10 minutes later. Great night guys! I was the loneliest girl in Denmark that night.

Another time I thought I could take one bus home when in actuality I knew that I couldn't, but I took it anyway.  There was a stop called Jagtvej on this bus route but there is the same stop on the route I was supposed to take, so I figured it couldn't be that far off. Too bad I was in the wrong neighborhood.  I walked 2.8 kilometers (which equals 1.7 miles) alone and lost until I finally recognized my section of Jagtvej.

Oops.

Soon it became a big accomplishment if I came back home with everyone else.  People would actually tell me how proud of me they were.  Hey, at least I was making progress.  I had one relapse when I went to a club for under 30 minutes (???), told someone I was going to the bathroom, and hopped in a cab to go home instead. I even got lost in our own apartment building that night, so let's all be happy I knew my address.  

Best Halloween Costume Idea EVER

Dress up as a beeper. Black cardboard box, whatever. Then style your hair like Justin Bieber. Now you are Justin Beeper. Walk around singing "Page me, page me, page me, oooh" to the tune of "Baby."

 

+

=

Total mind explosion.

Rondo is Big Frank

I have a problem with seeing look-a-likes that no one else can see.  I think my white friend Josh looks exactly like Ray Allen.  My other white friend Alphonse looks like Richard Hamilton.  NBA players can usually be equated to someone I know or something I am familiar with. Kendrick Perkins is Osiris, the Egyptian god.

           

It might be the beard, but every time I watch the Celtics, I see the god of the underworld playing.

I am a Celtics fan and Boston is undeniably the greatest city in the world. Rajon Rondo is my favorite player and I love him, but I think he looks exactly like this toy I had when I was little: Big Frank. Big Frank was a friendly looking Frankenstein figure that needed medical attention.  He had tools that he kept in his head and if you opened his chest you could turn some dials that would eventually bring him back to good health.  He even thanks you when you have finished working on him! Awesome toy.  And Rondo is Big Frank reincarnated. My five year old self got so excited when I first saw Rondo.

SAME PERSON! Am I not exactly on target with this? It's uncanny. 

And we all know how good I am at spotting look-a-likes. Antoine and his gym twin are proof. 

Check out the commercial from 1994 to see how awesome this toy is.

Alienating Grad Students: Mission Accomplished

The first story isn't that bad and actually just makes me look stupid.  A guy came into the gym looking to buy a membership. I explained he could go online and be active in 10 minutes, or he could fill out a paper form and be forced to carry around a slip of paper for 1-2 weeks. I only told him this because we are supposed to. He clearly wanted to work out right away, so after me bumbling about some more trying to get him to leave, find a computer, sign up, then come back to work out, I finally figured it out and gave him the form. The next day he came in and showed me the paper. I asked to see his ID so I could check if he was in the system, which he obviously wasn't since it had been a day, and he called me out on it. Sorry I didn't immediately recognize you! My bad, how could I have been so foolish and disrespectful? Anyway, whenever he came in after that I just got a dirty look that said, "Hey, you are an idiot."

A couple weeks later I was at Brewfest, as was he. Having barely eaten lunch and after sampling dozens of beers, I ran into him and started apologizing for being a retard and for not remembering that I had sold him a membership one day and then forgotten it the next.  He looked at me like I was crazy (well...) and then we said cheers, chugged our beers, and went on our separate ways. We do not acknowledge this encounter at the gym, but I don't think he hates me anymore. Win.

Story number two gets a bit worse.  There is the really nice 1st year Ph.D candidate (wait...really? And in something really intense, like Biochemical Engineering/everything that I cannot comprehend) who came up to me and introduced himself early on in the semester. We began chatting whenever I was working and it was pretty normal.  He even friended me on facebook.  That is when I started to spin out of control.  Now, this guy looks exactly like my housemate and close friend "Antoine," but they are of different ethnicities.  This did not stop me from calling the gym guy "(insert race) Antoine." And his facebook pictures are literally Antoine's facebook pictures, just with slightly different skin color. It's actually amazing. And everyone who knows Antoine agrees that they are twins. So all this is fine, until gym guy came to say hi to me one morning and I just started going on and on about how he is twins with Antoine, and that I've clearly been showing his facebook picture to the world. What goes through my head when I do these things? He awkwardly laughed it off, so I thought it was all good. Then I don't see him for three weeks. Oops. 

This guy is a trooper though because I saw him yesterday and he came over to talk to me! Like nothing weird had happened! Like I hadn't been a total creep! Amazing. So maybe I'm not as awkward as I think (yeah, ok) or my awkwardness is somewhat endearing. I vote for the latter.

So this last story has to be the worst so far. Hot Gym Guy comes in most of the time I'm working. He's tall and wears hilariously long basketball shorts, but has the face of an angel (what is wrong with me?). Anytime he was working out I would slyly watch him in the mirror. I do this to almost everyone in the gym, so it's really not that weird. We have to do something since we can't do homework or be on our phones, so watching people's workout faces is obviously the next best thing (some people are just hilarious).  After a couple weeks of me lusting after Hot Gym Guy, I actually ran into him at a party! How exciting! But the problem is I don't actually know him at all. So this is my genius plan: I'll casually ask him if he works out at my site, since he looks familiar. Flawless plan.  So I walk over, tap him on the shoulder and ask, "Hey, do you work out at Teagle?"

"Is that your pickup line?" 

Seriously, dude?  Did you just call me out? Wow. I don't ever try to pick up guys, and now I know why. I clearly suck at it. I stared at him and quickly started trying to backtrack, but I didn't know how to recover. I actually can't even remember what I said, but I bet it was idiotic. So that was a fiasco. Until I realized that he continued talking to me! Did my awkwardness work out for me this time? We talked for like 15 minutes before I ran away (I do that sometimes, but this time I totally regret it. There was no reason for me to leave Hot Gym Guy, so that was dumb).  But check me out, using terrible lines, being awkward, and getting a conversation going! Suck it. Unfortunately my shifts were changed immediately after this meeting, so I just don't ever see him. And at this point, it's too late for me to be like "Hey remember me? I tried to pick you up by asking you if you work out, fun times." Next time I see him, I'm gonna do the same exact thing and see what happens.

My Mission to Alienate Grad Students: The Back Story

Working at the gym forces me to interact with random people on a daily basis (false- I work as little as possible, so two days a week in actuality).  Usually I just smile, swipe their ID, and continue staring at people working out.  Or at the clock.  I work in the site with all the heavy lifting equipment which means that I am around certain types of Cornellians.  The main categories are faculty/staff, huge dudes getting ripped, and grad students.  Usually all are of the male gender.  

I had an awkward experience at this site a couple years ago with a grad student in which he asked me out without me realizing it.  I'm an idiot, I know, but it's not something I'm used to.  And, to top it off, I was 19 and he was a thirty-something international student from India. Who would ever have seen that coming?  He came into the gym, said hi, worked out for under 20 minutes (???), and then came back to the desk.

"Do you drink coffee?"

Not being a coffee drinker, I obviously said no.

"Let me rephrase, do you drink any sort of beverage?"

"Uhhhh...yea...." How did I not see where this was going? My thought was, obviously I drink beverages, where are you going with this? I'm such a fool.

"Would you like to get a drink with me sometime?" 

Oooohhhhhhhhhh.

Then it just gets awful. I paused for too long and then made the noise "Uhhhhhhhhhh....." for the most awkward amount of time possible. No more, no less. I then AGREED. WHAT? WHY? He asked me for my number, so I obviously had to make things even more awkward. I offered him my EMAIL ADDRESS. Who does that? Needless to say, nothing came of it (see, my plan worked, ha).  Those first few days were pretty stressful though.  Luckily my awkwardness warded him off.

Anyway, after this encounter, I decided that this year the tables will be turned and I will be the one alienating the grad students.  I have had a few successful experiences thus far. Stay tuned.

Hurricane Jeff and the Aftermath

Saturday night. We hit a party, the bars, then back to the party, and eventually back to our 8 person house which we destroy on a regular basis. But this was on a whole new level.  A few people came back with us and everyone was just hanging out, until a violent storm burst open our front door.  Someone started screaming as Hurricane Jeff began raging through the house.  Now, this guy is known to be destructive within the walls of his own house, which freaks me out since every time I'm there he goes apeshit and breaks everything in sight via body slam.  I am always convinced I will make a stop at the hospital before I make it to my own bed.  Saturday night however, the storm swung our way, leaving a path of destruction.  The great thing about it is that it isn't even Jeff who I blame. Young "Antoine," after jumping around chest-bumping with Jeff all around the living room, encourage him to "dunk" on our table (which had previously been dunked on only two nights before).  Jeff launched himself onto the table, not once, but twice, bringing the structure to its knees, and then Hurricane Jeff was gone, the door left open in his wake (basically, he fled the scene immediately after...smart kid).  

Now, this is not unusual.  What happened next, however, was just idiotic, yet no one could stop it. We were all bystanders.  Antoine started picking up everything in sight and launching it against the far wall of the living room.  Beer.  Empty bottles. A burrito. Vegetarian lasagna. Literally anything and everything was on the floor or the wall.  Even the CEILING. And then he just sat down like nothing happened. And then he got pissed at us when we told him he would be cleaning up in the morning.

"Did you see me jump on the table? Did you? Tell me. Did I jump on the table? NO!"

Ok, technically you didn't jump on the table, but your buddy did and on your request. And he did not throw a BURRITO against the wall. You did. Hence, you clean.

After this, someone (me) slapped someone else (Antoine) but we aren't sure why, and then someone (Antoine) threw a cup of water in someone else's (my) face. He clearly won that battle.  I sat down in defeat.  Who are we? And of course within 30 seconds we're best friends again. Only in our house does this happen.  But I cannot say I want to witness that ever again. Unless it's at Jeff's...

End result:

Rodents that think they run the place. 

What is this house?

What Are You?

It's happened. I am that girl.  The one who decided to start a blog way after everyone else.  My friend Heather just started writing hers about four days ago and I couldn't resist copying her.  The best part: I have absolutely nothing to blog about.

So this blog will be home mainly to stories about the most dysfunctional house in Collegetown and it will also be a place for me to ask those questions I can never answer.  Example: Why don't we ever see baby squirrels? Where are they? Do they even exist? And chipmunks are a different animal, so don't go there.

Blogging is somewhat obnoxious, like Twitter. No one actually cares.  I do not expect anyone to read this, ever.  I mean, it's not like this blog will be anywhere near as awesome as Men Who Look Like Old Lesbians, because very few things can be.  Basically I just got really excited to put my random thoughts that not one gives a shit about somewhere.

I am not the black one.