I Don't Really Do Resolutions

I know I said I'd be posting a lot more over break, but I ended up being busier than I thought I would be. Christmas was good, saw some family, gave some gifts, got some gifts, ate some food. Lately I haven't really been doing anything terribly interesting. I saw Timmy and Margaret, which was really nice. I saw Metzger a few times, which was freakin' sweet because, as you all know, German butchers are the shizz. I saw Colleen, the nicest girl ever. How much I have missed her laugh! And last night I saw Amelia, whom I have known since kindergarten, and old friends are always fun to catch up with. And of course I've seen Heather, the coolest girl ever and probably my oldest friend, considering we've lived across the street from each other since I was 2. Other than that, I have been missing ND, but slowly getting used to sleeping in and chilling out. One habit that I have developed is talking on the phone until the wee hours of the morning (around 3 am), usually with a certain Knott fellow, whose identity I will keep secret to spare him any potential embarassment. In this blog, I will refer to him as Stan Flanders. For some mysterious reason, Stan is able to keep me on the phone for hours several nights a week and never run out of things to talk about and always making me laugh. He's just so gosh darn charming! These enchanting phone calls usually cause me to sleep in until 1:00 or so in the afternoon, totally screwing up my sleeping pattern and daily plans, but it's so worth it.

So tonight is New Year's Eve. My parents have friends over. My brother has friends over. I am in my room listening to the radio and typing this blog. It's not that I have no friends, it's simply that all my friends either have boyfriends or some other sort of plans. And actually, I have learned from break that while high school friends are good to reunite with, I really love my college friends. Ladies of 6A, I miss you guys like mad. It seems that you fall into a certain group in high school and grade school and you don't really choose your friends but just happen upon them. These friends are great because they know your past and you share a lot of experiences with them. But to me, it seems that you choose your college friends and really find the people you click with. These friends may not know your past, but they will be there in your future. Maybe this is just me. I'm just lucky that I've found such great friends already.

So yeah, back to New Years. Ryan Seachrist replaced Dick Clark for the first part of the New Years show this year. Why is Ryan Seachrist such a television personality? Does anyone actually like him? What are you supposed to do on New Years anyway? Reflect on the past year? Plan for the next? Get drunk and party like it's 1999? Well, I don't really like to plan ahead or get drunk, so I'm going to reflect. Here is my 2005

I turned 18. I have yet to vote, buy tobacco products, join the military, etc.
I went on a bunch of college tours and visits.
I was Editor in Chief of the Visor, therefore I spent every other weekend in the high school with good ol' Bro Joe, eating Subway and criticizing writing styles
I had a snuffing ceremony (go ahead and ask me about that one) and chose Notre Dame (best decision of my life)
Prom! Go ahead and laugh, but I thought prom was a great time.
I graduated from high school. Yay for Hoban class of 2005
I went to St. John's in the Virgin Islands--the most beautiful place on earth. I want to go back right now.
I spent the summer laying out in the sun, reading, and hanging out with high school pals.
I started to freak out about college as Bed Bath and Beyond became my new home. I bought everything in purple.
I had a graduation party. I went to many graduation parties
A long (1 year and 9 months) relationship finally ended
I went away to college
I met Caitlin, Dana, Angela, Jess, Rupa, and Pasquerilla East
I joined boxing and ended up sticking with it and having a great time
I became a writer/actor for the Mike Peterson Show
I went to some SYRs. Yay
I went home for fall break.
I got cast in the play "Suburbia" as Erica, a promiscuous publicist
I found out that high school friends and relationships really don't last forever, but it's really ok for people to grow apart.
I met some more great people
I survived exams
I went through a semester of college without drinking (yes, it's actually possible, you naysayers who didn't think I could/would do it)
I came home for winter break
Christmas
Reunited with old friends
Sleep

That's my year. It may not seem like much, but it was actually a great year. Here's hoping for a wonderful 2006! Happy New Year, everyone.

Oh, Hi!, o

I'm back home in Stow for a month. Woot. Actually, I'm starting to think that being home won't be as bad as I thought. Not that I ever though it would be bad because Ohio is the shizz (more discussion of this later), but I'm just missing my ND gals and guys. However, I have come to the realization that sleeping a lot, watching VH1 and spending time with the fam for a month (basically hibernating) will be pretty nice. Plus, exams are over! Hurray! The bad thing about the end of exams is the end of my little exam songs that I included in my away messages. Now, since I know you are all missing these little diddies, I'll post them all here. You're welcome!

(Sing to tune of "All I Want For Christmas is You")
I really don't want to study
But I've only got one test to go
I've got to keep on going
Even though my brain's about to blow
I just want to go to bed
To just lay down and rest my head
But now I've got to cram
Baby, I just want the end of exams!

(Sing to tune of "Gold Digger")
Now I ain’t sayin’ she’s a studier
But she ain’t dealin’ with no failed failed
Read now girl go ‘head read now
Read now girl go ‘head read now

(Sing to tune of "Money Money Money")
Study Study Study
Must be funny
In a smart man’s world
Study Study Study
Always sunny
In a smart man’s world
Oh IIIIIIIIIIIIII
All the things I could do
If I didn’t have to study
It’s a smart man’s world

(Sing to tune of the them from "Gilligan's Island")
Just sit right back and you’ll start to study
To study for a big exam
You’ve been having your fun
So now you have to cram
The material is getting rough
Your brain’s about to burst
But you have to buckle down
Because failing is the worst
Yes failing is the worst

(Sing to tune of "Bye Bye Bye")
Don’t want to be a fool
Just gotta study for an hour or two
I may hate exams and it’s just not funny
Study Study Study!

(Sing to tune of "The Song That Never Ends")
This is the studying that never ends
Yes it goes on and on my friends
Some people started studying
Not knowing when to stop
And they'll continue studying
Until their brains will pop
This is the studying that never ends...

(Sing to tune of "We Wish You a Merry Christmas)
We wish you a merry last exam day
We wish you a merry last exam day
We wish you a merry last exam day
And a happy winter break
May Good grades come to you
However much you studied
Good grades for this semester
And a happy winter break.

I would have written more, but I was busy studying last week. You'll just have to wait until May for more, I suppose.
Tonight, I went out with one of the coolest people I know--Metzger! Yay Metzger! After sharing some Swensons (mmmmmm) and seeing Walk the Line (I love me some Johnny Cash), Metz and I got to talking about what makes Ohio so great. I mean, whenever I tell people I'm from Ohio they usually just say "I drove through Ohio once. Nice rest stops." Ohio just seems to be seen as a state that's in the way of everyone's vacation destination, and Metzger is convinced that I got into Notre Dame through affirmative action because they needed some people from Ohio, but actually, Ohio has a lot to offer. So I thought I'd list them for all of you. Maybe after reading the list, you'll come and visit me. (Perhaps for my birthday? It's on January 3rd and everyone here goes back home before that, so everyone should go to Ohio.)

Ohio has the Pro-Football Hall of Fame. I've never been to it, but I hear it's nice
Ohio has the Rock n' Roll Hall of Fame. I've never been to it, but I hear it's nice
Ohio has Cedar Point. I've never been to it, but I hear it's nice.
Ohio is the Amish capital of the world. I always saw Amish families at the children's hospital I volunteered at because they would marry their cousins and have messed up kids.
Ohio has the most horses out of any state
Ohio is the friendliest state--Oh, Hi!, oh
Marilyn Manson, Drew Carey, Katie Holmes, Jerry Springer, and Macy Gray are from Ohio
Ohio really does have very nice rest stops
Ohio has part of Lake Erie. I wouldn't swim in it, but if you're into gross lakes, then the Erie Lake would suit you well
Cleveland rocks
There are some songs about Ohio
In Ohio, it is illegal to get a fish drunk
We have Columbus Day in Ohio because our state capital is Columbus...o wait, everyone has Columbus day...never mind
I live in Ohio
Ohio is shaped like underwear
Ohio is for lovers
If you write Ohio backwards it spells "Oiho" which isn't a word, but is fun to try to pronounce

Ok, I'm reaching at this point, but the first few were pretty good. So come to Ohio! It's not a drive-through state, though I think Wendy's did originate here. Maybe I should try to see some of those Ohio landmarks over break. Or maybe I should just sleep. I think I shall embarce my inner bear and hibernate.

Convowithdanandjoeyaboutkevinwashington

So I think I'm done studying for the night, and it's only 9:30, which is pretty awesome. Though, I did study for about 6 hours today. I decided that I would waste time by helping you to waste time, i.e. I'll update my blog so you can read it.

December 4th was the coolest, most awesome day ever: The Baraka Bouts. I walked into the gym and there was a huge boxing ring on a raised platform. This was a little intimidating. Before the match, I got pumped up by working on a bag, doing cals, and watching other people box. Yes, I was nervous, but this mostly came from a fear of tripping over the ropes when getting into and out of the ring, causing me to be too embarassed to throw a punch. Fortunately, this did not happen. We all got to pick nicknames for the match. Mine was "Glass Eye." Let me give you the summarized reason: When I was in 5th grade, I had eye surgery where the lenses in my eyes were replaced with artificial ones. The synthetic lenses catch the light in a strange way, making my eyes reflect light and "glow" like a cats when the light hits them right. So people think I have glass eyes. My opponent for the day was Christina "Why Can't We Be Friends" Lee. We got to wear uniforms and the satin robes, which was pretty freakin' cool, but since mine was the 16th fight out of 17 and there wasn't enough gear for everyone, I was wearing a lot of other people's sweat. Gross. The announcer calls my name and I enter the ring. The ref (who wore a bowtie) told us to touch gloves, the bell rang, and the match began. Now, just because this is girls' boxing doesn't mean these are pansy punches. Granted, they aren't as intense as the boys' bouts, but we girls are tough and throw are punches hard and straight. During the first round, Lee had me against the ropes for a couple seconds. During the break, my cornermen (yeah I had cornermen. I also had a stool and a spit-bucket) gave me some advice and I went back into the ring. The second round was pretty even and we both got our punches in. By the third round, I was running on adrenaline and still ready to fight. Lee was worn out, but kept going. She dropped her hands, and I made her eat my glove. This round was amazing. I kept getting her in the face and the cheers kept getting louder. She was getting shots in, too, of course, but I dominated the third round. The bell rang, and Lee and I hugged. That's the funny thing about women's boxing--everyone hugs their opponent. The ref quietly said to us that this was some of the best boxing he'd seen all day and that there was only a one point difference to decide the winner. And then, the announcer called out the winner...in the gold...Elise "Glass Eye" Yahner! Yay! I didn't expect to win at all, so this was an awesome bonus. Thanks to everyone who came to cheer the women's boxers on! And to those of you back in Ohio who thought I would/could never do it...WHAT NOW?!!!
Ok, enough of that. Notre Dame gives us the Thursday and Friday before the first Monday exam off to study. Yeah, study. These study days are the best days ever. Thursday night was the most awesome, intense, biggest snowball fight-no, war- I have ever seen. It just started out with the Mod Quaders playing in the snow. Then the snowball fight encompassed all of North Quad. After about an hour, someone shouted "Let's take on South Quad!" and all of North Quad stormed over to South Quad for an all-out snow civil war. North, dominated, of course, but the battle was intense. I have never tackled so many people or been tackled so many times. War brings out a side of people you never knew existed. Like sweet red-head Jess who loves inspirational quotes and would never hurt a fly. She pinned me face down in the snow and quietly, but maliciously said "Elise, this is your face and this is the snow. If you don't yell mercy as loud as you can, your face in going in the snow!" I screamed mercy but Jess only said "That's not loud enough!" She eventually let me go, but let me tell you, I am never messing with Jess again. The girls of 6A joined forces to bring down a few football players, and that was pretty awesome. But what was cooler was that Caitlin brought one (specifically Kevin Washington) down by herself. Afterwards we had high-fived a plenty and the like, a look of dread passed across Caitlin's face. What if she had inadvertantly injured a football player so close to the Fiesta Bowl? She would have to flee the school with people running after her with pitchforks and torches! However, it seemed impossible that she had hurt anyone, so this was brushed off. Her worst nightmare had seemed to come true during this AIM conversation with the lovely Dan Canders, who is Kevin's roommate. (Caitlin sent me this convo and titled it "convowithdanandjoeyaboutkevinwashington." I found this hilarious, as it was all one word)

Caitlin: I told my parents I tackled some football players. They've never been prouder
Dan: Yeah, well Kevin has a really swollen ankle and can't really walk.
C: Shut up, you're lying
D: I'm serious. He said the coaches are going to kill him
C: You're making me really nervous Dan! Shut up!
D: He's really hurt! This isn't funny!
C: You're a liar!
D: No I'm not! Ask Joey

Joey: Kevin's right ankle is really swollen. He may never be able to play again.
C: Joey! That's not funny!
J: I know. It's really quite depressing, in fact
C: I don't believe you guys!
J: You ruined the man's life!

C: He's not really hurt, is he?
D: Well not seriously. He can't really walk that well.
C: Dan, this is not funny
D: I wish it was funny
C: Stop Dan! You're totally lying!
D: haha damn it! ok he's fine

During this conversation, Caitlin looked up at me with those big sad brown eyes and said in a very serious voice, "I killed Kevin Washington." I about died laughing. So in conclusion, Caitlin can bring a football player down, but she (fortunately) cannot injure one.

Last night, I finished studying around 10:00 (woot, I rock!) and thought, "Ok, I'll go to bed at 11 since I have an exam at 8 am." As soon as the thought crossed my mind, Dan Canders says, "Hey, let's go to LaFortune!" Of coures, I say yes. And of course, I have such a good time that I completely lose track of time and end up not coming back until one. My joy at a good night suddenly turned to panic at the thought of having an exam in 7 hours. I woke up at 6:50 and left for breakfast at 7:00. I don't really remember doing this. I was tired. I realize that getting five hours of sleep is not so bad, but I'm used to getting a lot more and I think I might be a bear or something because I feel a strong urge to hibernate. Anyway, let me just present to you my half-awake stream-of-conscience at the dining hall.

It's still dark
Woah, I got the first tray off the stack
There are no lines
Does food exist this early?
Dana says there's a funny Phillipino man making omelettes
The card swiper lady is far too perky for such an early hour
Someone tells Dana she should go outside and watch the sunrise. Do people really do that?
The sausage doesn't look so disgusting this early in the morning. Blech, still tastes bad.
Dana's omelette is white. She said it's because it's albino
I hate it when people say "could care less" when they really mean "couldn't care less"
Nice pencil case -Dana
Thanks, I've had it since high school - Me
Gross - Dana
I'm sure she's washed it - Caitlin (always the optimist)
No, never -Me

Then I took an exam and went back to bed.
Well, I've provided you all with enough of a study break. I'm off to use what's left of my flex point at Starbucks!

Well What Did Hilary Swank's Character Do Once She Became Paralyzed?

I just got back from the most amazing show ever--The Mike Peterson Show Christmas Spectacular! And it was spectacular. Thanks to all who came to watch! I hope we were not dissapointed (how could you be with bits like "Dome Alone" and "It's a Wonderful Mike" and "Promote Literacy and get the 'h' out of Christmas").
Not too many interesting/entertaining things have been happening lately, though if they have, I haven't had time to write them down/remember them because it's been one hectic week. Every day, I've had rehearsal, Mike Peterson Show shoots, boxing, homework. This Friday (tomorrow, or technically today considering it is 1:15 a.m.) was going to be especially crazy with boxing then rehearsal then Better Than Ezra concert then the Knott formal. I was a bit crazed so I asked to get out of rehearsal early and to skip boxing, both of which were granted. However, tonight I found out that rehearsal was canceled as was the Knott formal (boo) and all I'm left with is Better than Ezra (which is much better than nothing). So my hectic Friday has turned into mild Friday, which is actually kind of dissapointing. I was just getting used to the crazy busy shedule of devouring grab-in-go in 5 minutes, changing outfits in the blink of an eye, and getting little sleep. I suppose the mild Friday is good since I have to rest up for my big match on Sunday...That's right! The Baraka Bouts (women's boxing matches) are this Sunday at 1:00 (though I'll probably be fighting more around 2). I am so pumped! I've been sparring for about a week now and getting my work outs in and I think I almost broke my nose one time, and I feel ready for the one big match of the year! You should come. It will be awesome. There are 2 really short girls (I swear they have got to be like 4'8'' or something) and they are boxing each other. So if seeing me fight does not sound appealing to you, I bet midget boxing does (oh, you know you've always wanted to see two midgets fight!).
I have no idea what I'm going to do with myself next semester. Boxing will be over. Granted, I'll still have the Mike Peterson Show (sans MP himself), the play, and class, but boxing has become part of my routine. So here's some possibilites of what I can do to fill that void:
-Take lessons to become SCUBA certified
-Take swing dance lessons
-Buy that giant Rice Krispie treat from the huddle (Though that's not really a daily activity)
-Work out at Rolf's (definitely a must to keep in top boxing shape)
-Turn the tables and send oodles of trail mix to my grandma
-Write a novelette
-Find even more pictures of Vince Vaughn to decorate the room with
-Stalk Asian Chick, find out where she lives, and take all her clothes that have writing on them (which is basically her entire wardrobe but I'm sure she doesn't mind being nude, you know, since she's a hooker).
-Sleep (that one's my favorite)
-Make a collage of all the mugshots I took of the girls of 6A.
-Read all of "One Word, Two Words, Hyphenated?"
-Become a master ping pong player
-Write more blog entries
-Feng shui the dorm room
-Build a better mousetrap
-Send a critique letter to the Visor every day
-Find new and interesting ways to use "your mom" as an insult.
-Steal more things from the dining hall (I stole a tray today--I hid it in my big winter coat)
-Go to group help meetings for dining hall kleptomaniacs
-Watch every episode of Family Guy
-Find out why a duck's quack doesn't echo

Ok, I'm out of stuff. I used all my funny up at the MPS tonight. And I'll probably just pick 'sleep' to fill the boxing void, and sleep is what I'm going to do now, so Goodnight to all you bloggers out there. Stay blogalicious.

Kissing Thespians

It's the moment you've all been waiting for....an update!
Sorry it's been awhile. I've been busy, you know, with being awesome. Actually, my schedule has become a lot busy because since I last posted, I got a role in a play called "Suburbia." I play Erica, who reminds me a lot of Samantha in Sex and the City. I've always pictured myself more as the Charlotte type, but I guess that's why they call it acting. There are 4 guys in the cast. my character flirts with/hangs all over three of them. The one guy I don't get to cozy up to is the really hot one. Aw, snap! Oh well, he has a steady long-term girlfriend anyway and he transfered from Holy Cross so, you know. I actually have to do a stage kiss and by stage kiss I mean making out with a first year grad student center stage. Croikies! I must admit, the first time we had to act out this scene, I was quite nervous. It was just so awkward, this forced attraction. But again, 'tis acting. It actually ended up not being that awkward and it's as non-emotional and mundane as getting my daily cup of Starbucks from LaFortune. In other news, I have become a coffee addict.

I did not expect at all to be cast in the play, since I'm a freshmen and freshmen usually don't get cast. I basically auditioned on a whim (Angela auditioned, too, for the first time ever) and did not expect anything. But hey, I got the role of stage slut. Actually, my character is not a slut. I had a long conversation with the director (a senior) today about my character being a powerful, promiscuous woman, not a slut. Anywho, once I found out that I got the role, I was really excitied and, naturally, told people about it. I was talking with Jason, who lives in Knott Hall, and after having a discussion about mean boys, told him I got a part in the play. I said "I guess I'm a thespian now." Jason gave me a weird look and said "Oh, you decided that just now?" and I said "Well, I did some in high school, too." This only rendered an even weirder look from Jason who could only say "Oh, ok." He looked very uncomfortable so I decided to take a guess at what he might be thinking and say "Jason, I said thespian, not lesbian." The awkwardness immediately lifted and he said "Oh! ok! That's good." long pause. "What's a thespian?" Oh, Jason. Looking back on that conversation, it is quite humorous to replace the word thespian with lesbian, especially the part about high school.

The other day when I went to rehearsal, I walked into the wrong room. Usually not a big deal, but I thought rehearsal was going to be on the main stage of Washington Hall. I was mistaken, as my rehearsal was in the practice room. Before I knew this, I walked towards mainstage and almost walked onto the stage before realizing that it was not Suburbia rehearsal going on, but Asian Allures. Asian Allures=an all Asian fashion show. I felt very out of place. I left, but I should have looked for Asian chick. I haven't seen her around. My life is empty.

It started snowing. I hate snow. You can tell who's from California and experiencing their first snow because these are the people who freak out and get childlishly jovial over each and every little flake. Soon, the magic of a winter's snow will wear off and they, too, will realize that snow is just Satan's way of saying hello. I hate being cold, so I bundle up to the extent of Ralphie in a Christmas Story. Today, as I went to class in my giant purple coat, scarf, gloves, hat, and hood, people curiously asked me where I was from, expecting me to say California or some other warm place. When I said Ohio, they looked at me like "What's your problem? You should be used to this!" I will never be used to this.

I was all bundled up to go to rehearsal tonight and I wore a leopard earmuff headband thingy. The director commented on the leopard print and I said "Yeah, I kind of have an obsession with leopard" which I do, in case you were unaware. He said, "What" and I repeated myself and he goes, "Oh! I thought you said you clubbed a baby cheetah!" Actually, it was a baby leopard, and I used a spear. I left rehearsal that night the same time as Steve, another cast member (the guy who graduated last year who I have to kiss). I headed in the same direction as him out of the building and he goes "Aren't you going to P.E.?" I was and he said "Well then the north exit is the other way." Shoot, I thought it was, but I have the sense of direction of a blind person. I felt the need to explain my direction blunder with an anecdote and said "I have such a bad sense of direction! This one time I got lost going to my high school senior year!" I am a dork. Why did I tell him that? Why the heck am I telling you that? He responded to my story of infinte wisdom with "How did you get into this school? Are you a legacy." I said, "No, I'm really smart, I just act like a dumb blonde sometimes." He said, "I once dated a girl like that and she dyed her hair blonde and it was funny because it fit her so well." I said, "I have a blonde wig!" and left. I thought I'd better skidaddle before I volunteer any other unnecessary and potentially embarassing stories. And having a blonde wig is a good note to end on. I'll just let him wonder why I have the blonde wig. I should change my facebook picture...

When I got back to the dorm, Steve had friended me on facebook. My first thought: I didn't make such a complete fool of myself that he thinks I'm a loser! My second thought: maybe he wanted to read my profile and get my personal info to see just how weird I really am. I figure there are only three reasons for friending someone on facebook
1) You genuinly like the person and intend to see them again
2) You want to stalk them and gain access to their personal info and be notified when they have updated their profile
3) You're simply going for numbers and you just want more facebook friends
I'm thinking/hoping most of the time people friend me for reason #1, but in the case of castmates, they don't intend to see me again, they have to. And some have to kiss me. I should freak people out and pretend to have mono.

A new P.E. class has started. Yay! No more handball and ultimate frisbee and all the games that brought back terrible memories of being picked last in grade school. But guess who I still get to see? Smurf! The first day of class, she was late. The teacher did attendance and said, as most teachers do on the first day of a new class, that we should tell her what we prefer to be called. When she called Smurf by her real name, she said "You can call me Smurf." I couldn't help but teehee a bit at this. I mean, it's really quite a paradox. The teacher took note of the nickname and said, "I don't know why you're called Smurf, but I like it. That was my favorite cartoon." My thoughts not-so-exactly. Before switching P.E. classes, we had our last day of Fitness for Life, which was capture the flag. I ran over to the other side to get the flag. Smurf was on the opposite team from me. I tried to escape "the enemy" so I could get the coveted flag, which was really just a smelly old jersey, but Smurf would not let her team down. All she did was move to stand in front of me as I was running and I ran right into her. I felt like I hit a brick wall. As I was checking my vital signs, the brick wall that is Smurf did a fist pump and said "Gotcha!" as if moving to the left to block someone was a grand defense tactic. I'm cruel, I know, but that hurt like a mo fo! (what did you say?!)

One more story, I promise. You should read it. It's a good one. One Saturday night, I found myself in Knott Hall, channel surfing with Caitlin, Jason, and Joe Bonath. We called Dana and Angela and they decided to join us after a night of partying at Morrisey. They didn't seem to inebriated, but after some chit chat, it was slightly more evident. Dana fell asleep on the couch in the common room and Angela told me to check on her to make sure she was all right. I shook her awake and told her to go to her own bed. After re-waking her up a few times she sat up and asked, "Do I have a pulse?" Now, the strangest part of this question is my response, which was to actually check her pulse, as if I expected to gain a different answer than "yes, you are alive and well, therefore you have a pulse." Nonetheless, I checked her pulse and assured Dana she had one. I noticed she was sweating a lot and I asked her why she was so hot. Dana said, "It's because I have a pulse. A pulse will do that to you." I asked her to explain further, but she simply said nevermind, in a tone that said, "You could never understand." She then sauntered off to P.E. and to bed, where she still had a pulse. She still has a pulse to this day.

Ok, all. I'm done for real now. This should give you your fix from all that time you were blogalicious-less. And by you I mean Metzger.

Italiani Pazzi

Happy Halloween! I love Halloween. This weekend, I'm celebrating the pagan holiday by burning crosses and worshiping the dark lord while playing with a oigi board. Actually, I'm going to an SYR dressed as Marilyn Munroe. Look for pictures to come in my photobucket. They should be fantastic.

I've only been back from fall break for a week, but it feels like much longer. I guess it's because I'm always so busy, I had some Mike Peterson Show shoots this week, which means I'm in next week's show. Everyone should watch the show next week. I'm not even kidding. It's the Halloween special and it's the funniest one yet. It's freakin' amazing! It's on every day next week starting Monday at 4 and 8 on channel 14. Watch it or you're not allowed to be my friend anymore.

Italian class has been especially interesting lately. We're learning the difference between the imperfect verb tense and past participle tense. Carolina, the crazy Polish teacher who doesn't speak much English decided the best way to teach this would be by changing a story from the present to the past. Sounds reasonable enough. This little excercise started out with her holding up pictures of the story and asking us to describe them. Now, I think I should really start wearing my contacts, because when I looked at this picture, all I saw were 3 pink jelly beans walking down a road, so when she asked me to describe it, I became quite confused. I eventually picked up that the 3 jelly beans were really the 3 little pigs and that I am blind. The story continued, and all was going well until Carolina said that after the wolf blew down the first little pig's house, he at the little pig. At this statement, we all paused. One girl asked the question that was on all of our minds. "He doesn't eat the pigs, does he?" Carolina responded (in English, for more emphasis) "That's your version! The wolf eats the stupid pigs in Italy!" Italiani pazzi. After we had finished the slightly violent version of "The Three Little Pigs," Carolina said, "Your homework is to do the same thing with that story about the girl with the red hood." I think she meant "Little Red Riding Hood." All was regular with this story. The next day when we reviewed our homework, Carolina tried to express why we use the imperfect to describe Little Red Riding Hood by saying "Little Red Riding Hood is dead, or at least she doesn't exist anymore." There's no magic or optimism in Italian fairy tales apparently. Of my two professors, Carolina is definitely the crazier one, or maybe I just don't understand Italian. But this one time, I swear she had this conversation with a student.
-Carlolina: "What happened"
-Student: "I don't know"
-Carolina: "A pizza?"
-Student: "Yes."
Like I said, Italiani pazzi.

After Italian class, I have theology, and you all know what happens in theology.....ASIAN CHICK! For a while there, I was quite worried that she had dropped theology, which didn't make sense since it's a requirement. However, I soon realized that she just showed up sporatically and skipped theology a lot. This is probably because going to a class where there is talk of God and morals makes her uneasy due to her proffession, such is the saying "sweating like a whore in Church." So the one day this month that she get could away from the office (the office being a random street corner in Southbend) and decided to show up to theology, she wore a sweatshirt with words on it. Now, I can critique this without even having to talk about what the words said. Why the heck can't this girl buy a single top without writing on it? Is she trying to draw attention to her chest by making people read what's on it? True, that's a crafty advertising campaign, but enough is enough. Her shirt said "Southville Strikers" on it. It looked slightly vintage, so I'm assuming this was her previous place of business. She worked in Southville and "striker" was her nickname, derived from her sexual techniques. Oh, Asian Chick, when will the madness stop? Never, I hope, because then I would have nothing to write about.

I'm TB Free

Sorry I haven't written in a while. I've been busy with midterms and such. You know, I do have a life outside entertaining you people. But that life would be empty without your enjoyment from reading about that life.
Vince Vaughn's Wild West Comedy Tour was the most amazing night of my life. The comedians were hilarious and Vince Vaugh was oh-so hot. I got there an hour and a half before it started and got 6th row center seats. Pretty freakin' awesome. In between each comedian, Vince Vaughn would come out with one of his actor buddies, which included the guy who played Ralphie in A Christmas Story (he didn't shoot his eye out), Justin Long from Dodgeball (the cheerleader kid), and the guy who played the gay painter guy in Wedding Crashers. It was amazing. During his bit with Justin Long, Vince Vaughn threw a dodgeball out into the audience. As the dodgeball sailed towards me I reached my hands up. It grazed my fingertips and the guy behind me caught it. So dissapointing. After the show, most people left. Caitlin and I stuck around to see if we could catch a glimpse of Vince Vaughn. While we were waiting, we spotted Brady Quinn, the Irish quarterback. He started walking towards us. We start to (discreetly) freak out. He comes to about 4 feet away from us, stops, turns, and says "hi" to his friends standing near us. As Caitlin and I begin to crawl towards a hole where we can die from embarassment at actually thinking Brady Quinn may be coming over to talk to us, we spot Vince Vaughn! VINCE FREAKIN' VAUGHN! He was just walking around, signing autographs and taking pictures. I had no pen. I had no camera. I had no hope. But I did follow him around like a lost puppy (as did about 50 other people) and stood 2 feet away from him. I could have touched him! He's so tall! I was right next to Vince Vaughn! AHH!! I noticed that Justin Long and the Wedding Crashers guy were just standing around and Justin had a pen. I went up to meet Justin and shook his hand and asked for his autograph. He was really nice and friendly and he said I looked like Jennifer Jason Leigh. I had no idea she was, so later that night I looked her up and realized that this may or may not have been a compliment. In any case, he signed my ticket "Elise, lots of love always, Justin Long." Justin Long has now replaced Vince Vaughn (who seemed rather grumpy with his fans) as my desktop. I also shook hands with the Wedding Crashers guy and told him he was my favorite part of the movie, which may or may not have been true. I left with the biggest smile on my face. I could have died at that moment and been perfectly ok because my life's goal of meeting Vince Vaughn had been fulfilled. I had nothing else to live for. However, I now have a new goal of becoming famous and re-meeting Justin Long and marrying him. We'll see how that pans out.
After the show, I had an SYR to go to. I was an hour late because I spent a lot of time simply running through my hall screaming "I stood next to Vince Vaughn!" In any case, I got ready and went to the dance with Dana and I met up with my date for the night, Steven. All was going well as I was still on a "I just met a celebrity" high. Then Steven pointed out the leprauchaun, or rather, the guy who dresses as the leprauchaun at pep rallies and games. I told Dana he was there and as she was turning her head this way and that to get a glimpse of him, the leprauchaun bumped into her. That was pretty cool.
I was sick for about a week and a half. I had the worst cold of my life. It was absolutely terrible. I started telling people I had tuberculosis, just to convey how bad I felt, though I probably had nothing worse than strep. In gym class, I mentioned to creepy guy that I was sick (he was following me as usual so I figured I'd strike up a conversation) and told him jokingly that I had consumption. Later that day, I went to the health center and found out I just had a really bad cold. Kind of dissapointing for how crappy I felt. I was walking back with my prescription medication and saw creepy guy. He said "Hey, how's it goin'"? And I said "Good! I just got medicine from the health center!" and he goes, with an excited smile on his face "So you really did have TB?!" I said, "No! I have a cold!" He dissapointly said, "Oh, ok," and trudged off. Obviously, he was hoping I had TB so I could join him in his club for "people with strange and rare diseases," his disease, of course, being rabies.
Another famous person came to Notre Dame: Jim Caviezal (the guy who played Jesus in The Passion). He said the Rosary at the Grotto and talked about his faith journey. How very Notre Dame. All these famous people just flock to Notre Dame. Bon Jovi was rumored to come to our pep rally for the USC game, but all we got was the real Rudy (I would have preferred Sean Astin) and Joe Montana (whom I stood in line behind during Frosh-O and I didn't even know who he was). Oh, and about the USC game, I'll just say one thing: The Irish played amazingly and it was an incredible game. But that is the last time that the Trojans will beat Charlie Weis and the Fighting Irish.
Moving on...
I'm on fall break now. I thought it would feel weird being home, but it really doesn't even feel like I left. I didn't expect anything to change, but I expected it to feel different. It just feels like I was at a really really ridiculously long school day or maybe summer camp. If anything has changed, it's that I've developed a better appreciation for the little things, like not having to eat food off a tray. I'm trying to visit with as many people as possible, which isn't too hard, considering most people are still at school. But I saw my grandparents, Tim (who looks so freakin' awesome with his faux hawk), Heather, James, and I visited Hoban, so I'm good.
When I get back to school, my dorm is having a Halloween party and I need a good idea for a costume. I want something clever, pretty, awesome, sexy, interesting, good, etc. So if anyone has any ideas, let me know because right now all I've got is a headband with cat ears on it.
That's it for now, kiddies. I'm off to lounge around my house and enjoy the comforts of cable, my own room, and not having to wear sandles in the shower.

The Perks of Being Sober

I think it's time to answer the question that's been on everyone's mind since my last post: What inatimate household objects doubles in weight after 10 years of usage?
Answer: A mattress.
The extra weight is due to all the dirt and sweat. Think about your dorm mattress and how many people have slept on it. Now go ahead and cringe.
Caitlin was the first one to guess this right, but that's probably only because she's my roommate and was able to play 20 questions for quite a while. In any case, Caitlin wins. The prize: being mentioned in my blog. Though this may not seem so fantastic to everyone else, Caitlin is ecstatic about it. Trust me.
Onto other things...
I started a new P.E. class (yes, I have to take gym in college). My first class was self-defense, which involved a lot of eye gouging and groin kicking. There were only 3 males in that class and they seemed kind of shady, like they were taking the class so they could see what a girl would do if they tried to attack her. My new gym class is Fitness for Life, which is your basic gym class with a bunch of useless, repetitive fitness information and games that you never wanted to play. Last class, we ran and played capture the flag. I'm not a big fan of either. However, no matter how bad/slow/lazy/unathletic I think I am, I can always look to this one girl in that class. Now, let me start by saying that I usually do not like to make fun of obese people simply for being obese. However, the situation calls for it. There is a girl in my class who must weigh close to 300 pounds. She shows up to p.e. late, even though her previous class is nearby and she has a bike. The first day of Fitness for Life, we had arrange ourselves in alphabetical order without using words. I have the luxury of simply going to the end of the line without asking questions because my last name conveniently begins with Y. The large girl, however, decided to take the last spot in line. I mouth the words "What is your last name" to her. She responds, in a non-whisper "Murphy." I reply "Oh, we're supposed to be in alphabetical order." She retorts "I don't know how the heck we're supposed to do that without talking. That's just stupid." Fine, Murphy. For your lazy butt, we'll rearrange the alphabet. After getting in alphabetical (or in this case Murphabetical) order, we had to introduce ourselves by saying our names. Murphy's intro went like this: "My name's Sade, but you can call me Smurf." Smurf??? There is nothing small or smurflike about her. We then had to jog 20 yards. No big deal, right? Oh, but it was a big deal for Smurf. She simply stood at the baseline the whole time and refused to run. When we did crunches, she merely laid on the ground. It's one thing to be obese. Some people can't help it. But to be entirely lazy is completely different.
I'm thinking I should just have an "Interesting Person of the Week" whenever I write a new blog entry, because I meet so many interesting people. However, this week I cannot just pick one, because there is another interesting person I must discuss. I've actually already mentioned this person. He is the creepy guy from the Mike Peterson Show writers' meeting who had violent/obscene ideas and looked like the lead singer from the Crash Test Dummies. Anyway, this guy has decided that him and I are best friends. Rapture. I honestly feel uncomfortable around this guy. He really is creepy. The other girl writer for the MPS agrees. Turns out that creepy guy is in my P.E. class (which turns out to have a cornucopia of interesting people in it). I was talking to a rather good-looking boy after P.E., but creepy guy scared him off when he caught up with me walking back and decided that, as best friends, we should talk. So this guy is preventing me from making any other friends in that class. After the last P.E. class, creepy guy decided to tell me all about the time he had rabies because he tried to tackle a woodchuck and it nearly ripped off his thumb. That's the stupidest lie I've ever heard. I don't even want to believe that it could be true, it's so ridiculous. In my opinion, the rabies adds to the creepy factor. The other day, we (MPS writers) were doing a shoot for the MPS. The skit was that the latest fashion trend was the unzipped fly with boxers sticking out. Creepy guy jumped on the opportunity to participate in this skit. I was there to play the girlfriend of one of the unzipped boys. I prayed that it wasn't creepy guy. Fortunately, it wasn't. This made creepy guy quite upset as he declared "By the end of this shoot, I will have a hot girl with me!" Then he glared at me as if I was supposed to jump up and say "Oh! Pick me!" To his dissapointment I said nothing and looked the other way. After the shoot was over, I headed over to the dining hall for dinner with the girls of 6A. Creepy guy followed me. I tentatively asked him who he was meeting at the dining hall, knowing already what the answer would be. He cheerily replied "Oh, I assumed we would eat together." Ok, now don't hate me for what I said next, but let me explain. I told him "Oh, actually, it's girls' night and I'm just eating with some girls from my dorm. Sorry." Exit creepy guy. I know that was horrible, but honestly, this guy makes me really uncomfortable and Caitlin doesn't like him either. I had to tell him to leave. He's quite stalkerish and I don't like him at all. So don't think I'm a terrible person! I didn't learn enough in self-defense class to invite creepy guy to dinner!
On a less catty note, last weekend, I was invited to an SYR. SYR=Screw Your Roommate. Each dorm has an SYR each year. Tradtional SYR form means that your roommate picks a date for you, thus screwing you over if the person sucks. However, most people just pick their own dates. Joe from my Italian class (and from New Jersey--ew, I know) asked me to go. He's pretty good-looking, so I figured why not. The theme for the SYR (they all have themes) was 70s' disco. Therefore, I wore a top with sequins on it. I don't know if that's 70s', but I really like sequins. Joe, on the other hand, raided the thrift store and wore tight plaid pants and a gator-print jacket. I know what you're all thinking: sexy. Anyway, I show up to his dorm about an hour before the party because that's when the pre-partying is happening (aka drinking). Joe and his buddies are already drunk. I join their sober dates on the futon and laugh at them as they belt out N*Sync tunes. Surprisingly, they know all the words and even some of the hand-motions, something they would probably not admit to when sober. The actual party is at a bowling ally off campus and on the bus ride over, I soon find out that Joe is a very complimentary drunk. What he said includes, "I really respect that you don't drink." "You're a really good-looking girl." "I'm the hermit crab racing national champion" "You're not like most girls. You're really cool and you're a good person." In case you were wondering, the hermit crab statement really is true. Bowling was a ton of fun. Actually, the whole night was a lot of fun, but bowling was great simply because I kicked butt. If you've ever bowled with me before, you're probably wondering how this happened. I mean, I won the game and my score was only 90. Well, let's just add bowling skills to one of the many advantages of sobreity.
While at the disco bowl, I met one of Joe's friends, Andres. Andres is a very cool guy and we hit it off. So the following night, we talked and decided to hang out at his dorm. Andres lives five doors down from Joe, so I was planning on going over to say hi to Joe at some point. Unfortunately, my plans were foiled when Andres and I were talking in the hall outside his dorm and Joe walked/stumbled out of his room. I waved. Joe didn't and walked/staggared back into his room. I figured he was just drunk and confused. Monday after Italian class, I asked Joe what he did on Saturday. He replied, "I don't really remember. I was just drinking in the room I guess." I said, "I saw you and waved but you didn't wave back." He said, angrily "Oh that I remember." He then went on to say how I like Andres better than him and how he's used to girls liking other guys more than him and blah blah blah. Quite pathetic. I disputed his claims and that was the end of that.
This Saturday will probably be one of the best days ever. The love of my life is coming to Notre Dame. And I've got tickets. The Vince Vaughn Wild West comedy tour is on Saturday!!! I love Vince Vaughn! His mug shot from when he got arrested for fighting is a bar is my desktop. I hope I'm able to get good seats so I am able to proffess my love to Vince Vaughn. I'll tell you all about my crazy evening with Vince Vaughn in my next blog, or more likely, I'll talk about how I had crapy seats and I went to another SYR after the show.

Word to Your Mother

This blog is going to be mostly shout outs, because I never do that, but they will be intertwined with my characteristically funny anecdotes, so keep reading.

My first shout out goes to Dave Wartko and Brian Fair, even though neither of you read my blog, mainly because you are fools. In any case, the reason I am shouting out to them is because Brian went home this past weekend to celebrate his mother's 50th birthday. He brought back with him a Swensons double cheeseburger. (For all of you non-Akron area dwellers who do not know what Swensons is: simply put, it is the best hamburger place in the world. No joke. I'm addicted. They must put crack in the patties.) Brian gave the blessed burger to Dave, who so very generously split it with me. Even though the cheeseburger has been through a 5 hour car ride and 2 days in Dave's fridge, it still tasted like heaven on a bun. It was amazing. So thank, Brian and Dave, for sharing that most scrumptious, delectable, wonderful hamburger with me.

Next up on the shout-out list is Tim Adkins, because he reads my blog. Tim, I've been enjoying our chats as of late. I miss you and our lunch time chatter!

Another shout out goes to my Dad because his birthday is tomorrow (Sept. 29). He doesn't read this blog either, but I thought I should put that in there. For my Dad's birthday, I picked out a sweatshirt from the ND bookstore Web site and had my Mom order it. This was good, but seemed a bit impersonal. So I made him a delightful card that says "I wish I could be there for your birthday, but alas, I am out here in Indiana under the Golden Dome. So I got some of my Notre Dame friends to wish you a happy birthday!" I then proceeded to copy and past pictures of famous ND things from the Internet, such as the Dome, saying "Enjoy your golden years!" and Regis Philbin saying "You look like a million bucks!" I'm so creative. Even after the card, the gift still didn't feel quite right. So what do I do? I steal a soup spoon from the North Dining Hall, tie a green ribbon around it, and stick it in the envelope. The funny thing is, my Dad will absolutely love it.

I'd also like to give a shout out to everyone who poses nude/half-nude in their facebook picture. Actually, I don't want to shout out to you. I want to shout AT you. Put some clothes on, you freakin' floozies!!! A certain redneck from Suffield has an especially disturbing facebook picture. He was completely naked (ew) with only a cowboy hat covering his privates. (It was a small cowboy hat). My good friend Amelia told me about it and as soon as I saw the hideous image, I wanted to poke out my eyes and vomit. If you get the chance, I suggest you check out this picture, just so you know what NOT to do in facebook, though I'm sure the awesome people who read this blog wear clothes, not cowboy hats. (By the way, if you're really itching to see the naked cowboy's picture, his name starts with a T and ends with a J Gaydos.)

Another shout-out goes to Metzger, because she loves pirates. I also love pirates. A pirate could kick a ninjas butt any day of the week. That's the end of this shout out.

Next and final shout out goes to (suspense creating drumroll)...................................................
ASIAN CHICK! She's back! Your life feels whole again, now, doesn't it? Admit it, you missed Asian Chick's crazy antics. Actually, she has not been in class lately, and this has been dissapointing. But the last time I saw her, she was wearing a Notre Dame sweatshirt. Now, I may be reading too much into this, but the back of the shirt said "Lucky Since 1998." I'm assuming it was in the year 1998 that she became a lady of the night and thus began her prostitution business. Perhaps she runs an entire brothel called "Luck" and they were founded in 1998, thus their slogan is "Lucky Since 1998." This is only my assumption, but based on her past work uniforms, oops, I mean outfits, I don't find it too farfetched.

Well, that's all for the shout-outs. Don't feel bad if I left you out. It's probably only because I don't like you or you don't write comments on my blog. Speaking of comments, it has come to my attention that some people do not know how to write comments on my blog. You simply click on the thing that says "# comments" (sadly, that number is usually 0) and a little box will pop up in which you type your witty, admiring comments. And don't be anonymous. That's just frustrating and guess work is not my strong suit. Oh, I almost forgot! No one answered the question from my last blog correctly! No one even attempted! (Except Laurell Marshall, who always comments and is just freakin' awesome. Shout out to Laurel!) This isn't a riddle, it's an actual fact! I will repeat the question here and you all should keep on guessing. What inatimate household object doubles in weight after 10 years of ownership?

Charlie is my Home Boy

As some of you may have gathered from my blogs, and if your lucky to know me well enough, my phone calls, I'm having a great time at Notre Dame despite my apprehensions all throughout the summer. However, I didn't really fall in love with this place until the first home football game. Notre Dame really does have the best school spirit and the best student section in the world. Now, I'm not a big football fan. I just learned what a first down is. But the excitement of the game just catches you up. It's unavoidable, and I love it. Last Saturday, the morning of the first home game, one of the boys' dorms (Zahm) came outside my dorm (P.E.) at 5:00 a.m. yelling "Wake up PE!" which was very effective in waking me up. At 7:30, I was re-awakened by the upperclassmen banging on my door and yelling "Get up freshmen or we'll get the master key and drag you out of bed!" That was not an empty promise. From there we practiced the cheers for the game (I freakin' love the Irish jig) and then got ready for the game. Campus was all a-buzz. Yes, that sounds corny and cliche, but it is oh-so true. People were everywhere in green, gold, and blue selling hot dogs, shouting cheers, watching the band, etc. The frosh of 6A (my dorm section) have started a new tradition of sock decorating before the game, meaning we take white knee-socks and decorate them with magic markers.
The game itself was amazing. It was quite the emotional roller-coaster, with Notre Dame being down three touchdowns, but coming back just in time to tie the game up and bring it into overtime. The student section is so exciting and I have never yelled so much in my life. At every ND touchdown, small groups of people lift one person up to do pushups as many times as the score. Now I know where Hoban got that tradition from. Looking across the student section and seeing so many people being thrown up in the air is awesome. Overtime was nervewracking and ended in a heartbreaking loss for ND. That was seriously the most heartbreaking sporting event I have ever witnessed. Again, I'm not a hardcore football fan or anything, but I was deeply affected by this game. The whole campus was somber the rest of the night and my friends and I basically went back to the dorm after the candlelight dinner and went to bed. It was that depressing. However, the Notre Dame spirit prevailed after the lost with a cheer of "We Are ND."
What's also amazing is how much the students love our football coach, Charlie Weis. They are even wearing shirts that say "Charlie's Angels: Putting the Nasty back in Dynasty" or "Charlie is my Home Boy" in the same style as the "Jesus is my Home Boy" shirts.
Regis Philbin was at the game and on Monday, I watched the beginning of Live! with Regis and Kelly and Regis spent a decent amount of time talking about Notre Dame and showing his personal pictures of him at the campus (i.e. Regis praying at the grotto, Regis at the dome, Regis saying hi to a duck at the lake). Does Regis ever talk about your school? I didn't think so. I win.
Enough about football. I wish I could give you an update on Asian chick, but she has become very uninteresting. But here is my latest dillemma:
My jeans got stolen. I am so incredibly upset. They were my favorite pair of Gap jeans. I left them in the laundry room to dry, as I have done many times before and as everyone else does. But when I went to get my jeans after dorm Mass on Sunday, they were gone. I immediately made "Lost Jeans" signs on my computer and taped them up around the dorm. So far, no one has given them back. I was going to send out a dorm-wide e-mail asking people to check and make sure they don't have my jeans, but my dear boxing buddy Angela brought me back to my denim realty and said "You know, if someone stole them, they're not going to give them back." Fooey. I have to go shopping now and that takes so much planning and time to get a bus.
NDTV, the student run television channel, has a show called "The Mike Peterson Show" and it's like a combination of Conan O'Brian and Saturday Night Live. I interviewed to be a writer for the show and I got in (yessss!). This made me think that I should perhaps change my role model from Katie Couric to Tina Fey, but that is beside the point. I went to the first writer's meeting in Washington Hall and was locked out of the building. I was pacing outside the building trying to figure out what to do until someone came along and opened a door that I hadn't even noticed. I go to the meeting, where I am one the only girls. At first, I thought this might be good, being among all these boys and me being single and in a boy-meeting slump (meaning I met a ton of boys frosh-o weekend but then all at once I stopped meeting them and am stuck with only a couple numbers and none of them connecting me to really attractive men, though there a lot of those on campus). However, I forgot to realize that most of the boys who are involved with television and writing are theater people, meaning they are either crazy or gay. This was fine, though, because I had been getting worried that I would have no crazy or gay friends on campus, given the conservative feel of it. I should have known that all I need to do is join a theater group.
Anyway, during the meeting, many ideas were tossed out there. Some of them were funny, some of them not so much. There was this one kid who had a plethora of over-the-line ideas. Everything that came out of this kid's mouth was violent/sexual/innapropriate/totally creepy. He was pretty creepy looking, too. He reminds me of the lead singer of the Crash Tests Dummies (They sang that Mmm Mmm Mmm Mmm song). I'll be sure to stay away from him. On the plus side, my idea got picked and I get to act in it! Hooray! I would tell you the idea, but it doesn't really make sense in writing and if you don't go to Notre Dame. All I'm telling you is that I play a really obnoxious girl in the audience who shouts random stuff.
So I go to the filming for the Mike Peterson show at 2:00 because that's what time the e-mail said it was. I get there and everyone gives me really weird looks and I'm like "hey what's up?" and they're like "The filming isn't until 4:30" and I'm like "Oh, I thought the e-mail said 2:00" and they say "That was about yesterday's filming" I feel dumb and leave. I come back at 4:30 and get dressed in my "costume" which consists of "The Shirt", green athletic shorts, knee-high yellow socks, my turquoise Roo shoes and a side-ways baseball cap--basically what I wore for the football game (minus the cap). Right before the segment where I actually talk, the sound girl came and attatched a microphone to me. That was akward, considering she had to clip it onto the back of my pants. You get to know someone really fast when they have to clip something on your pants. So my scene comes on and I give my lines (which are actually a bunch of shouted ad-libs). After that my 30 seconds of stardom are over, I realize that every time I shout I close my eyes, giving my face a very strange expression, probably not matching the scenario. I'll just have to see how it turns out and hope that people will laugh with me and not at me. Or if they laugh at me, I hope that don't know who I am.
One more story...At the Mike Peterson show, there is a musical guest. This week, he was a sophomore guitar player from O'Neil hall. He is gorgeous. I try to catch his eye before the show, and despite my bright display of green and gold, he doesn't look over. I begin to lose hope, but once he starts performing, he occasionally looks at me in the audience and smiles. Warm fuzzies abound. After the show, I get up to leave and notice he is at the doorway, looking my way and smiling. I smile back and head over to tell him I enjoyed his performance (when what I really mean is "I enjoy your physique and hair style and chizzled facial features"). Just as I'm about to reach him, the elderly woman who had been sitting behind me in the audience goes up to him and gives him a hug. It is his grandma. Again, I feel stupid and leave. I hope that's not going to be a theme for my participation at the MPS.
This blog is kind of stale. I'm really sorry. I'm trying to think of something witty to say, but I just can't. Am I possibly losing my MoJo? I sure hope not. Since I have failed to entertain you with my words, I will try to please you with my pictures. Check out my brand spankin' new photo bucket account. Just type in "elisey1987" at photobucket.com. It's some good stuff. I'll leave you all with a little trivia question: What inatimate object in your home doubles in weight in the first 10 years of owning it? Leave a comment and try to answer. If you get it right, I'll doing something very Notre Damish like light a candle at the Grotto for you.

Million Dollar Baby

Warning: To fully understand and appreciate the first part of this blog entry, you must have read the last one. You should just read all of them because their freakin' awesome.

So I walk into Theology the other day, and I head towards my assigned seat (yes, we have assigned seats in that class. I sit in the back because I always get there late). As I walk in the door and look at my desk, I notice a puppy pencil case sitting on it. This could only mean one thing....Asian prostitute chick has taken my seat! She's supposed to sit two rows ahead of me! Did her stupid puppy thing get too heavy that she simply could not make it the extra 3 steps it would take to get to her own seat? Probably not. She's probably just crazy.

You're probably thinking, "Lay off the Asian chick. Taking your seat is not so bad." Alright, so it's not so bad. But listen to this. I walk into the women's lavatory (hee hee lavatory) before Italian class, not really paying attention to who else is in the bathroom. As I head into the stall, I see Asian Chick out of the corner of my eye. I literally did a double take, backed up, and craned my neck to make sure it was her, and indeed it was. This was exciting, seeing Asian Chick outside of theology class. What was even more exciting was what she was wearing. Her shirt was bright turqouise with the words "Half Naughty, Half Nice" emblazoned on it. Woah, hold the phone. I think this is confirmation that she is trying to send a somewhat scandalous message to the boys of ND. She also wore a baseball cap that said "Irish Girls" on the front and "best in the world" on the back. But she, however, being cool and trendy, turned her baseball cap backwards so one saw "Best in the World" and "Half Naughty, Half Nice" right away. These are probably descriptions of her services. Plus, no one would believe she is really Irish.

Since I had already seen and analyzed Asian Chick's outfit before Italian class, I was slightly bored in theology. This boredom led to me noticing that the kid who sits in front of me wears a different Jimmy Buffet shirt nearly everday. The know-it-all girl has now taken to talking without even raising her hand and just shouts over the professor. Everytime she speaks, the kid in front of me just shakes his Parrot Head. He probably wishes he was in Margaritaville.

Enough of Theology. Let's talk Italian! I wish I could say that last sentence in Italian, but I cannot. I know little useless phrases, but someday, I'll travel to Rome and be able to order gelato in the native tongue. Or I'll have a tour guide do it for me. Anyway, I have two different professors for Italian because I have the class 5 days a week. My Monday, Wednesday, Friday teacher is from Youngstown and is quite young himself. He's pretty cool, but every Monday, he asks how our weekend was and asks certain students how many beers they drank (all in Italian). And all we can answer back is "I drink two beers" or "The beer, it does not please me." Ah, literal translation. One day, this professor claimed he saw a student at a party (apparently he attends them, too) and tried to tell us she was drunk. Seeing no reaction from the students as we didn't know what "drunk" in Italian meant, he proceeded to staggar about the room until we understood and laughed at him. The Tuesday, Thursday proffessoressa is from some country near Italy and she doesn't speak much English. To compensate for this, she has devised certain noises to convey what she means. This all makes her seem very cartoonlike, until she walks past you and she reeks of cigarettes. Cartoons don't smoke.

I joined boxing club. Yeah, real boxing club. As in "float like a butterfly, sting like a bee." I tell people I joined boxing and they usually say "Oh, kickboxing! I did that!" and I have to say, "no, real boxing." It reminds me of when I told people I was going to Notre Dame and they say "Oh, in Cleveland? I got a full-ride there!" People are always underestimating me. Though, I do have to say, that if I were someone else, I wouldn't believe me either. Training for the first 2 weeks is 5 days a week, 2 hours a day. I woke up this morning and couldn't get out of bed because I was so sore. It feels good. I'm getting toned and I'm learning to box and I'm going to prove everyone who laughed at me wrong. There's no contact for the first month, but then we can choose whether or not we want to fight. They have a fight at the end of the season that other students actually buy tickets for to watch us fight. I hope I'm good enough to do that. So far, it seems like I'm doing ok, but the movements are kind of tough to get a hang of. The girls who run the program are seniors in the ROTC program. I call them ROTC Naziis. It's a rough workout (usually consisiting of running 1 mile, 400 jumping jacks, 50 push ups, 400 sit ups, lot of arm circles, etc.) but it's a good time. My neck and shoulders are going to be huge from those arm circles.

Well, I have effectively wasted time that I should have spent doing homework. That's all for now, kiddies! And post comments, you fools!

Stick With the Fro Yo

I just made some old people very happy today. I called my grandparents and both grandmas said that my call just brightened their days and put a smile on their faces. I'm just that awesome.
Classes are so difficult. I really didn't believe people when they said it would be this much work, but it is. And it's not busy-work. It's plain old work.
My theology class is quite different from the religion classes of my past 12 years of Catholic education. Instead of talking about what the Church says and what the Bible says, we talk about different ways to interpret this stuff and a lot of it is unconventional. There's no wrong answers, but a lot of the stuff I was taught in Catholic grade/high school differs from the professor's views. There is this girl in my theology class who looks just like Megan McCormick, but is not like her at all. This girl is like Megan's evil twin. Well, maybe she's not evil, but she definitely shouted at the professor and interupts him all the time when she doesn't agree with him, which is always. She's read Cathechism and the Bible and is all "holier than thou" so when she hears something unconventional about the Church, she kind of flips out. At first it was ammusing, hearing this girl freak out, but now it's just kind of annoying. So in the midst of her shouting, I decided to take a gander at my fellow classmates. After taking mental note of the kid who looks like a blonde carrot top, I was suddenly stunned by the Asian chick, sitting up straight and keeping to herself. The best thing about this girl was her outfit. She had hot pink sweatpants, hot pink sequined flip flops, and a white t-shirt that had the word "WILD" written is huge hot pink letters. I highly doubt this girl was as wild as her large-lettered t-shirt claimed. She looked about as calm and harmless as her puppy dog pencil case (yes, she really did have a pencil case that looked like a fuzzy puppy). Perhaps if the puppy were real and she had actually killed it and gutted it for the use of containing her writing utensils, this girl would be wild, but I bet she bought it at the same place she got her Hello Kitty watch.
I really did not expect this girl to have such an entertaining outfit again, but she proved me wrong. Today in theology, she wore Van Dutch jeans and a bright blue t-shirt with (again) giant yellow letters reading "FREE." Woah. So not only is she WILD, but she is FREE and a skater. Or maybe she is some sort of prostitute and these shirts are a form of subtle advertising, claiming she is WILD in bed and on Mondays, her services are FREE, and perhaps she keeps condoms in her puppy pencil case. I highly doubt this. I mean, it's nearly impossible to get condoms on the Notre Dame campus. As you can tell, I am thouroughly amused by this girl and her clothes. Theology is my new favorite class.
Tonight, as I was talking online, not doing my homework, a knock came at my door. Both Caitlin and I shouted "Come in!" as is the custom in section 6a where everyone is friendly and you don't have to wear make up around your section sisters. We assumed it was Jess across the hall, so when no response came from the door, I shouted, "Come in, you fool!" as is the custom in what Akon would call the Gheeeeeeeto. So in walk two strange boys, whom neither Caitlin or I know. I immediately feel dumb. They were talking about selling food somewhere in Knott Hall, but we could barely understand them, they were laughing so hard. I came to find, however, that they were equally unintelligable at other dorm rooms.
I just read the first edition of this year's Visor. Last year's was far superior, though I have to keep in mind that the first issue always sucks. Behind Brown Eyes is the name of the new Editor in Chief, Amber Beery's column. Her column was terrible. Sorry, it really was. Though, again, my first column was pretty bad, too. I do like Alex Bluebond's column title, Kind of Blue. His column wasn't bad either. I didn't read Becky Pelini's. I'm sure it was very good as usual, but I knew I wouldn't understand it because it's about sports.
Thursday is Caitlin's birthday and since she doesn't have a blog of her own, she wanted me to let the world know of her 18th b-day through my blog. So September 1, everyone wish Caitlin a happy birthday. While we're talking about Caitlin, she just said "What's that saying? Don't hate...proliferate? That would be a good saying." It's appreciate.
Here's a fun little story about the dining hall. The other night, while dining on the fine cuisine of North Dining Hall, I decided to get some desert. I saw people putting icing on cookies, so I grab what looks like a chocolate chip cookie, take what looks like icing, and grab a spoonfull of what appears to be that blueberry goo you put on pancakes, because that stuff is the shizz. All of this, mind you, was on the buffet clearly marked "dessert." I get back to the table, only to find that the cookie is actually full of nuts, not chocolate chips, the icing is actually humus, and the blueberry goo is strawberry jam. In conclusion, I'll stick with the fro yo (frozen yogurt).

My Name's Elise, I'm from Ohio, I'm undecided

That's what I've said about a million times already. I've opted for "My Name is Elise" as opposed to "I'm Elise" because the vowels blend together with I'm and Elise and people get confused and it sounds like "Amelise." Or maybe I just need to articulate.
I got here (Notre Dame) on Thursday (Aug. 18) and I was one of the first people in my dorm because most people don't move in until the 19th. So I had the whole room to myself to do whatever I wanted with it. Yay! It wasn't as small as I thought it would be. Carpet and a bedspread make it look a whole lot more homey. One girl, however, said to me, "I like how you set up your room. It looks really homely." I'm sure she didn't mean my room was ugly, and she meant to say homey, but I could be wrong. She did get into Notre Dame, after all.
Anyway, on my way into campus, I saw a bunch of signs pointing to the various dorms. The girls dorms were fairly boring, but the boys dorm signs were clever. Zahm, a male dorm, had a sign saying "Housing your daughters since 1976" and Knott Hall's sign said "Knott this way." I live in Pasquerilla East, home of the Pyros. Maybe I should clue you, the reader, in. Each dorm is single sex and has a brother/sister dorm and has a mascot and unique aspects and it's own little event.
Moving in wasn't too bad. My parents helped me out a lot. They have to stay in South Bend for 4 days for parent orientation, so it's kind of weird because I've spent 2 days here and I haven't had to say good bye to them. It feels kind of like summer camp.
When I was in line with my parents to set up some type of money account, I see this really pretty lady and her pretty daughter, though the mom looked very young. My parents said something like "Is she a mom or a student?" and then Joe Montana walks up with them and it turns out that that was Joe Montana's wife and daughter, who attends Notre Dame. Now, I would have been very excited and star struck about this had I known who Joe Montana is. Apparently it's some sort of crime to not know, but now I know and I saw him, so I went from being behind all the other domers, to being a step ahead. So there. (Joe Montana was a pro football player)
I stayed in my dorm room alone last night and there were only about 4 other girls on my floor, so I just chilled and went to bed. It was fine until I woke up and forgot where I was and started freaking out for a couple seconds. Then it was all good and I found the hall microwave and made some tea.
Girls started moving in at 9 and were moving in all day today. I met my roommate. She's really nice and we have common interests and it seems like we'll get along.
I walked my classes today and bought some groceries and little things like that. The Performing Arts Center is amazing. I love it so much, I may just become a film major. But probably not because that's not a very useful major.
Everyone got t-shirts specific to their dorm (I got a red one that says Pasquerilla East). We had to wear these t-shirts to the big fat freshman picnic. All was fine and good and I met some cool girls in my dorm. Then I was talking with my parents, Caitlin (roomie) and her parents and this guy comes up to me and was like "I talked to you earlier, right?" and I'm like "Noooo." and he's like "Oh, well you look really familiar" and I say "Ok well then I must have a twin running around somwhere" and he goes "My name is JT" I immediately think Justin Timberlake. Then I think JTT as in Jonathan Taylor Thomas. Then I stop thinking about celebrities. I tell him my name and he's asking all this stuff like what dorm I'm in and what I like to do (to which I answered "I don't know" because I was put on the spot. I quickly changed my answer to tennis and theater, which probably isn't much better). I thought he might be advertising something, because earlier, someone had come up to us, acting all friendly, and then was like "you should study abroad! take this flier!" so I didn't ask this kid anything about himself. Then I figured out he was a freshman, too, so now I guess I was being rude. After some chit chat he left, but not before asking for my number, which I gave to him because I don't know how to say no. I'd be surprised if I ever got a call from this guy. After he left, Caitlin's 15 year old brother informed me that "I think I've met you before" is a frequently used pick up line and I fell for it. So I guess that makes me a sucker.
Tonight was dorm initiation. All the dorms do it, but in different ways. My brother dorm is Knott Hall so we teamed up with them for super sloppy double dare. It was like that old Nickelodeon show, but no Mark Summers. Eggs, chocolate syrup, water ballons, soap, vegetable oil, mustard, etc were all involved. I had to find gum in a whipped cream pie without using my hands. I used my hands. This initiation was supposed to last 2 hours, but it only lasted 20 minutes, so the non-freshmen took the extra time to douse everyone the left-over supplies. I got chocolate syrup in my hair, mustard all over me, hit with a water balloon, and of course, a face full of whipped cream. I showered as soon as I got back. A few of the men's dorms went to the various women's dorms to serenade them with various N'Sync and Backstreet Boys hits. Zahm's was certainly the best, as each guy picked a girl to serenade individually. It was slightly akward having a stranger sing to me while holding my handing and kneeling (in the other hand were the lyrics to the song), but it was funny to watch.
More adventures from Notre Dame to come soon!

Once More, With Feeling

Here's a montage of songs from a certain T.V. musical...I'd be surprised if anyone could guess which one it's from.

You're not ready
For the world outside
You keep pretending,
but you just can't hide
I know I said that I’d
Be standing by your side
But I
I will walk through the fire
'Cause where else can I turn?
I will walk through the fire
And let it
Going through the motions
Walking through the part
Nothing seems to penetrate my heart
I was always brave
And kind of righteous
Now I find I’m wavering
Life’s a show and we all play a part
And when the music starts,
We open up our hearts
Life’s a song
You don’t get to rehearse.
And every single verse
Can make it that much worse.
I wish I could say
The right words
To lead you through this land
Wish I could stay here forever
But now I understand
I’m standing in the way
Where do we go from here?
Why is the path unclear?
When we know home is near
Understand
We'll go hand in hand
But we'll walk alone in fear
What a lot of fun
You guys have been real swell
And there's not a one who can say
This ended well.

Summer Reading

This is the first summer in quite a while that I have not had required summer reading. It's been very nice because I've been able to read whatever I want. So I thought I'd review those books that I have read so far this summer, so that you, the reader, may read something on my recommendation. Or not, whatever.

The Lovely Bones
Summary: Susie, a 14-year-old girl, gets raped and murdered. The book is written in first person from her point of view from Heaven as she watches her family and friends cope with her death. The book spans from the time of her death to about 20 years later.
Critique: The first 100 pages are incredibly depressing. The rape is described in full detail, and is probably very accurate of a rape considering the author herself was raped (she wrote another book called Lucky about her experience with rape). After you get past the horrific rape scene and the tear-jerking descriptions of the family's grief (particularly emotional was a chapter in which Susie's father has to explain to her 4 year old brother that his sister is dead) the book actually gets a little light-hearted, suspenseful, and at times humorous. At times, the novel is almost like a mystery because the reader knows who Susie's killer is, but the family doesn't and you don't know if they ever will catch him. The novel deals with a lot of issues. Susie's friends go through high school and growing up and finding themselves with the weight of a tragic loss on their shoulders. Her siblings have to deal with being labeled as "the dead girl's" brother or sister. Her parents have to deal with being able to love each other after the loss of a child, which proves extremely difficult and harmful to the family as a whole. Susie herself has to deal with watching those on Earth, but being unable to connect with them until she does find a way to break through, which is a really weird and interesting chapter. Overall, I would give the book a 4 out of 5 stars.

The DaVinci Code
Summary: Robert Langdon gets this call in the middle of the night in France and goes to the Louvre Museum to find the famous curator sprawled out in the Viruvian Man position. He and the curator's granddaughter find all these clues that the dead guy left behind and they are just so freakin' smart that they solve a bunch of clues leading to the treasure that no one has been able to find for centuries. This treasure is the Holy Grail, which really isn't a grail, but Mary Magdeline's tomb. They're being chased by the police and they get into all these Indiana Jones type adventures. The whole thing takes place in about 3 days.
Critique: Despite what everyone else says about this book, I did not like it. I think Dan Brown is a hack. Maybe I was expecting more because of all the hype, but this book just didn't do it for me. First of all, the writing is not anything spectacular. Sure, the story itself is very imaginative and takes a clever mind, but it would make a much better movie than a book. The book is frustrating in that it presents so many stories about history that you have to wonder which are fact and which are fiction. Also, Dan Brown makes a lot of bold claims about the Catholic Church. He seems as if he's trying to trick reader's into believing that the Church was founded on corrupt schemes by placing these stories among facts about art history. Obviously, Brown is not a fan of the Church, but he does not have to make things up about it. I have heard some people who have read the book actually buy into his little stories about the Church's "corrupt foundations." It is a fiction book. It's FICTION. I realize the Church is not perfect, because it is man-made. But there are not such deep, dark, corrupt, malicious, devious secrets that built the Church up. Anyway, more about the book. It became very long and drawn out and the characters did a lot of sitting around and talking and explaining certain things repeatedly to different people. Also, Langdon and his side-kick girl figured things out much too quickly for this treasure to have been such a well-gaurded secret for centuries. One second, they'd be pondering, then the next, they would have figured out this impossible riddle that has left treasure seekers perplexed for ages. The book is ridiculously outlandish. Skip this book and stick to the Indiana Jones movies. 2 out of 5 stars.

Sloppy Firsts
Summary: Jessica Darling's best friend just moved far away. In her sophomore year, she is left with only those mere aquaintances she eats lunch with. They are the superficial, popular girls who stab each other in the back, drink regularly, never eat, and have a new boyfriend every week. Jessica, a smart and quiet girl, feels lost without her best friend. To top it off, her whole family is preoccupied with her older sister's wedding and her father only talks to her about running. Marcus Flutie, the class druggie, becomes a part of Jessica's life when she decides to be daring and let him use her urine sample to fake a drug test. She becomes depressed and is becoming more distant from her once best friend, but she always maintains her wit. This book is written in the form of Jessica's journal and it follows her from sophomore year to junior year.
Critique: I couldn't put the book down. It was right up my alley. It's a very hard book to summarize because it's written in journal form, so there are many minor events that make up the book. Jessica Darling is very sarcastic and witty and is never afraid to tell her journal how she really feels about her parents or the girls she eats lunch with or Marcus Flutie. The book is not as serious as it sounds and it has lots of laugh out loud moments. It's a feel-good read with substance. Jessica was definitely a girl I could relate to and would want to be friends with. Her sense of humor is unique and she is very insightful when it comes to analyzing people. Currently, two Jessica Darling books have been written with more to come. 5 out of 5 stars.

Stiff
Summary: This is not a novel, but investigative journalism. It's all about "the curious lives of cadavers"--the many different uses for dead human bodies. Each chapter deals with a different use, including how plastic surgeons practice on heads for face lifts, cadavers used as crash test dummies, cadavers used to examine human decay, how cadavers can detail the events of a disaster, anatomy students holding memorial services for their cadavers, Body Worlds exhibits, and much more.
Critique: Warning! This book entails gory and at times horrific detailing of dead human bodies and what is done with them. It is reccomended that the reader has a strong stomache. No detail is left out in this book. The chapter that describes a field at a certain university, specifically dedicated to the study of decay (bodies are literally strewn about the field), is especially disgusting in its description of the 4 stages of decay. Because this book does not have a story line, it's a little harder to get through. Once a chapter ends, so does a story, so it's not exactly a page turner. It is, however, very interesting and I am glad that I read it. It's amazing how many uses there are for cadavers. This is a book you don't have to read all at once, but can pick up and read a chapter from time to time. 3 1/2 out of 5 stars.

Smashed
Summary: Koren Sailckas, the author, describes how she fell into alcohol abuse. Her "story of a drunken girlhood" starts when she is only 14 and ends when she give up alcohol at age 22. The novel focuses on her struggle for acceptance and self-confidence through alcohol, the pressure for women to drink, and the difficulties in escaping it.
Critique: Every girl should read this book before going to college. If I had any doubts that I would continue to abstain from alcohol in college, they were abolished with this book. Koren begins drinking at 14. By age 16, she has her stomache pumped and falls into an alcohol induced coma. In college, she blacks out and wakes up the next morning, having lost her virginity to a man she met the night before. Her relationships continously crumble and she is always afraid of men. Her attempts at abstaining from alcohol fall apart when social situations call for drinking. Her friendships are based on drinking, so when she finally does choose to quit drinking, it is made much harder for the sudden loneliness felt when she realizes the only things she had in common with her friends was drinking. She is never an alcoholic, just an alcohol abuser. Zailckas discuses throughout the book societies expectations of women when it comes to drinking. Women are supposed to be made more confident and forward and dominating if they drink, which in actuallity, there is a Girls Gone Wild camera hiding outside a bar, telling drunk girls to lift their shirts or a man hurrying a wasted girl into his car. Women are objectified in alcohol commericals when they mudwrestle or serve a man his drink, scantily clad. This book truly demonstrates the dangers of excess and how college drinking is especially harmful, despite its wide acceptance. Zailckas sites several Harvard studies on college drinking throughout her book to backup her claim that, although accepted, college binge drinking is dangerous for all people, especially women. So if there is one book that you read this summer, make it this one. It might change your opinion on drinking once you get to school, or it at least might make you take a second thought. 5 out of 5 stars.

So there you have it--my summer reading. Take it for what its worth, but trust me about Smashed. Happy reading!

Two topics rolled into one blog!!!

I love fireworks. They are just so great. I wish they launched fireworks year round, but I doubt very many people would sit outside in December to watch them. Anyway, I missed the 4th of July parade, not because I am unpatriotic, but for several reasons:
1.) Stow's parade is getting really lame. It's turned into a bunch of realtors giving out business cards.
2.) I am afraid of clowns and parades almost always have clowns. I saw one at a cookout on the 3rd and I nearly freaked out until I noticed the clown did not have face paint on. This made things a little better, but not much, considering he was equipped with huge multi-colored shoes, MC Hammer-esque parachute pants, and balloon animal making skills.
3.) I had a feeling watching a parade would make me more aware that I am not a kid anymore and that my childhood is behind me. It's like I wouldn't be allowed to enjoy it because society says parades are for kids and such. I probably wouldn't enjoy anyway, though, because they'd be throwing candy at me and I'd just be thinking about how many calories are in each little tootsie roll.
4.) I didn't want to get up early. I like sleep. A lot.
5.) I wasn't in the parade. I would definitely go if I was in it. Walking those five miles while chucking candy at toddlers would be a great workout. The only time I was in the parade was for girlscouts and that was in 3rd grade. It was fun. I decided I could probably just have an impromptu float idea and hop in line for the parade, but by the time I came up with a cause, it was too late and I was too lazy. My cause would be PETA: People for Eating Tasty Animals (I know that's not my original idea, but it's soooo funny). My float would be Hawaiin style with a giant pig on a spit in the middle. I'd toss steaks into the crowd. So, if anyone wants to join me in this cause for next year's parade, just give me a call.
6.) I hate it when people say "Happy 4th of July" and that would definitely happen at a 4th of July parade. Saying "happy 4th of July" is like saying "Happy 23 of April." It's a date! not a holiday! If you want to wish someone some holiday cheer on July 4th, you should say "Happy Independence day" or "Here, have some leftover potato salad from yesterday's family picnic!" But please, do not say "happy birthday America." That is soooo corny.

I guess those are really the only reasons I had for not going to the parade. I did go to two sets of fireworks--Hudson's and Silver Lake's. Silver Lake's was way better.

So at the end of this month I get my roommate assignment. I'm so excited!!! I just want to know right now. It's killing me, not knowing, it really is. I've been speculating all summer about what my roomie is going to be like and what will I do if she's a twit? I watched this episode of Buffy the Vampire Slayer where Buffy gets this awful roommate who is just so annoying, but such a sickeningly sweet goodie tooshoes. She's uber obnoxious, but to top it off, she ends up being a soul-sucking demon. Don't worry, Buffy kicks her butt into another dimension. But what if I, a normal, non-slayer girl, gets a terrible roommate who wants to kill me? I have no super powers! I can barely shove someone to their side of the room, let alone into another realm. So here's keeping my fingers crossed for a non-demon roommate.

Venting....

So in my 18 years of living with Scott and Pam (my parents), I have been grounded once. I forget what it was for, but I went outside and played with my friends anyway and I was about 11. In the past week, however, I have been yelled at and grounded more than ever. Maybe my parents are just trying to pass on some last minute wisdom before I head off to college, which they seem to think I will never come back from. They're acting like, once I'm gone, I'll be severing all contacts with them. Like I'm dead or something. Whatever. Anyway, so my mom asks me to go to the post office the other day, and I refuse, which I guess was pretty dumb and selfish of me considering my mom has such a hot temper. So I got reemed and I'm grounded from my car for a week, making my friends feel like my own personal chauffers. Great. Oh, but I was allowed to use my car to take my brother to tennis lessons. That wasn't so bad, considering his coach, Pat, is entirely adorable and a great conversationalist. I look forward to talking to this creative writing major with a mean serve, but my mom put the kabash on that by suddenly ending my brother's tennis lessons, giving me no excuse to go and talk to Pat or even say goodbye. Ugh. So today my parents went off to Cleveland for dinner and shopping and an eye doctor appointment (oo how romantic). My dad suggested that I take my brother swimming at Silver Lake Country Club's pool, a very safe and heavily lifeguarded pool. Well, I ask my mom about this and she throws a fit about the dangers of swimming (my brother is 13, by the way, and totally capable of swimming). She even says, and I quote "Why don't I just stick you and your brother out in the middle of the highway and let you stand there and see if you get hit by a car!!!!!!!" As if swimming is the equivalent to dodging traffic. She is so crazy. So I had to spend the rest of my afternoon sitting at home. I wasn't even allowed to drive to get dinner for my brother and I, so my mom handed me a box of crappy macaroni and cheese. MMM, delish. So apparently, she said something about feeding my brother at 6. You wouldn't believe this, but my brother can't tell when he's hungry. We have to force him to eat. No joke. It's like he's food retarded. If we didn't tell him to, he'd never eat. So I was busy doing my own thing and Alex was doing his thing so I ask him "hey, you want a hot dog" and he's like "fine" and I'm like "well, I'm going to go take a shower since James is coming over tonight and once I'm done, I'll make you dinner" Sounds reasonable. Well, in between getting out of the shower and microwaving a hot dog, my parents come home only to be completely dissapointed that their star student daughter has failed them for about the 3rd time in her life. It's terribly tragic for them so they have a fit about me not making Alex dinner at 6 and how my mom is trying to get him on a schedule so that he eats. They make it sound like the boy is anorexic, and while he does have issues, i think his biggest one is just being a lazy ass who like to complain and refuse to do everything anyone says. So I am just so sick of being yelled at for such petty shit that I just talk back. Then they give me this lecture about acting like an adult and taking responsibility, during which they reminded me that "You're 18!" Gee, thanks, didn't know. Most 18 year olds don't have to take care of food retarded kids. And if we're all being adults here, shouldn't I be allowed to have my say in the argument? Oh no, that's back talk because during arguments, I'm a child, but during everything else, I'm supposed to be a 40 year old minidrivin' mom. So James is supposed to come over and he calls while I'm getting reemed, yet again, and I'm like "You know, probably not a good idea to come over" I hate having to do that, but I hate even more when my parents are pissed off at me in front of my friends. And I had just put my make up on too, so that's really depressing. So I'm just sitting here, all dressed up with no where to go. All because I didn't feed my brother at 6. My mom came in while I was writing this because she's wondering what else is going on because I'm not acting like myself. You know what? Nothing else is going on at all. Maybe I'm just really tired of being the perfect daughter and thinking things instead of saying them. Maybe I just decided to actually try and argue my side, like adults do. This whole "let's give Elise all the lectures she missed out on while she was being a goody-tooshoes before she goes off to college" thing is wearing thin. I mean, what is something like taking away my car going to do for my behavior at home in the next 2 months? Honestly, it's so ridiculous. Guess I'm just a terrible person for not wanting to keep quiet anymore and actually wanting to say something back to my parents after 18 years. Apparently, when I do that, I must have something else like drugs or a break up or some sort of terminal ailment on the side that makes me want to do something as terrible as that. Grrrrr. Maybe all the teenage angst I didn't have during high school is finally surfacing. Great timing if that's so. So in conclusion: I'll miss my family when I go off to college, but I won't miss being treated like a 5 year old while being expected to act like a 35 year old.