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?
Wednesday, September 28, 2005
Friday, September 23, 2005
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.
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.
Thursday, September 08, 2005
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!
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!
Tuesday, August 30, 2005
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).
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).
Saturday, August 20, 2005
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!
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!
Wednesday, August 10, 2005
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.
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.
Monday, July 25, 2005
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!
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!
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