Sunday, September 28, 2003
So I officially have a new freshman boyfriend. And, I'm sorry, but for the next few sentences I'm just going to be supremely girly and gushy and rattle off a list of facts that I know about him. Ready? Here goes.1. he wears glasses
2. he has shaggy hair
3. he's a sensitive boy with a guitar. well, okay, i'm just hypothesizing about this one, but he definitely fits all of the characteristics thus far
4. he wears sweaters
5. his name's matt, my favorite crush name from back in the day
6. he's from arkansas
7. he lives in 228 glassel
8. he likes improv
9. he's friends with a short guy, who is always in attendance with him at said improv shows
10. he looks really cool
11. he bought a sex pistols poster at ye olde poster sale a few weeks ago
12. he looks like max fischer, which is why we cleverly call him max, as opposed to best friend number two, which was just too long
13. did i mention he was really cute
Alright, enough. I've been making dumb references to him all night, such as "Did you see her ring? You know who's ring would look good on me? Matt's ring." and "Man, those brownies are really good, but you know what's also really good? Matt." Enough said. I think I've reverted to a new low for junior high antics in terms of crushes. But he's really rather attractive.
posted by jordan on 1:12:00 AM
Sunday, September 21, 2003
Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuck.posted by jordan on 1:52:00 AM
Friday, September 19, 2003
Ahoy me mateys! It's ye olde annual Talk Like A Pirate Day, for a few more hours at least. I feel as though I haven't taken full advantage of the holiday, but at least I didn't miss it like I did last year. It's tough talking like a pirate. There are only so many phrases you can say, none of which are substantial enough to have an entire conversation with one person.I updated to OSX today, and have been playing around with i-tunes for the last few minutes. Unfortunately, it won't let me copy all of my songs from my harddrive to the new fangled device, so I have to do them individually. It's a giant pain in the ass.
posted by jordan on 9:13:00 PM
Thursday, September 18, 2003
So I emerged from my dark cocoon of a room this morning, with every intent of memorizing lots of Jackson Pollock slides and writing my Eva Hesse paper, when I saw it. I opened the refridgerator to see if there was anything of any substance to drink, coffee being preferable, when I saw it. It. Abbey's chore chart. That's what it's called. In colorful bubble letters with curly-cue designs around the paper. Needless to say, I just called it a day, went back to bed for a few hours, made up random dates for slides I had never seen before and said the most intelligent thing ever in class - "Well, it's not very interesting" - when shown a painting of some handicapped girl crawling towards a farm while dragging herself in the grass. The paper's not really all that important. I'll just add it to the folder of unfinished fiction stories and short plays. But man that chore list pissed me off. For the remaining weeks of September, and the entire duration of October, I am responsible for taking out the trash and cleaning the bathroom mirror. Alright, the trash I can handle. But the mirror? First of all, I'm short. Real short. And the mirror is really far away and tall. Really tall. Second of all, I'm assuming Abbey only thinks the mirror needs to be clean because she's anal. And there's lots of random make-up flecks on it. Raise your hand if you wear make-up and live in my apartment. Alright that's three hands...wait, somebody's missing. That's right - ME! So now I have to clean Liz's gross lipstick/blush/eyeshadow/whatever the hell else she puts on her face. I'm going to go finish watching the E! True Hollywood story of Survivor. It's saying the most intelligent things I've heard all day.posted by jordan on 1:37:00 PM
posted by jordan on 1:35:00 PM
Wednesday, September 17, 2003
So I think I'm going to be getting a music column. Again. Freshman year, when I briefly wrote reviews as an idealistic youngin who thought she could change the taste of the campus, one punk rock record at a time, I got letters about not reviewing the new Dave Matthews/Phish/typical college crappy band record. And so I stopped. I took my Death Cab For Cutie records and my big headphones and retreated into my room, where I could listen to my music in peace.The time has come to unleash my music snobbery skills on the rest of the campus yet again. After all, there are three whole classes here who have never read a single review I've ever written. Although the girl that's the editor of the entertainment section already suggested the new John Mayer record for next week's issue. I'm doing Tora Tora Torrance instead.
It's a beautiful day in the neighborhood, yet again. After work I'm going to finish High Fidelity while sitting in the Gardens. And then head over to the Deli, order some cheese fries, have a few beers and talk about music. It's going to be a good afternoon/evening.
This morning, I went to visit Ashley and congratulate her on her impending nuptials. I hate that word, by the way. Anyway, while I was talking to her, she got the hiccups and I suggested that perhaps she was scared. She looked at me aghast (agast?), as though she wanted to say "how dare you suggest I'm afraid of getting married at the tender age of 20!". Which I wasn't implying at all. I then explained that last semester, when I was struggling through the calculus class from hell, I would get the hiccups every day in class. And I determined that they resulted either from a) my complete and valid fear of failing the class, b) my utter hatred for the class/prof/anything having to do with numbers or c) I just had some weird medical condition that caused me to develop the hiccups at precisely 11:30 am every monday, wednesday and friday. Ashley didn't see the correlation and, now that I write this out, neither do I.
posted by jordan on 1:52:00 PM
Tuesday, September 16, 2003
So I blew off both modern and sculpture today. Yes, there was a quiz in modern and yes, cardboard me is due in a mere ten days and I still consist of nothing more than partial legs and arms. But I am not terribly concerned about any of this. It'll all eventually get done.Tonight I also went to the Watson meeting. It met during sculpture, so my reason for not going was completely valid. At least for not going during the first hour. Anyway, while I was sitting there, listening to the inane questions of my peers, a thought came to me. I was the coolest person in the room. By far. Everyone there should have wanted to be my friend, but I would refuse them simply because they could not even come close to reaching my heights on the cool meter. Granted, here at ye olde Rhodes, it's not all that tough to be cool. But man, those kids sure sucked tonight. The Watson peeps should want to give me their money simply so they won't have to deal with someone who will inevitably go to law school. Or med school. Hell, even grad school for that matter. And according to that new Newsweek article that the entire adminstration is raving about, that's all this school is good for. Too bad I don't want to do any of the above.
posted by jordan on 11:18:00 PM
Monday, September 15, 2003
So I was just sitting around, calmly reading about Georgia O'Keefe, when I realized I had yet to post. So here it is. Perhaps I should have taken my forgetfullness as a sign that this contest and I just weren't meant to be. Egh. Or maybe not.posted by jordan on 11:57:00 PM
