Things I Learn from House*

*All of which I already knew somewhere deep down.


1. Tell your doctor everything, legal or not.
2. EVERYTHING.
3. Hugh Laurie: cute in every language, accent, etc.


Feel free to say what House teaches you! I know you watch it!

while we've all used the google world thingy to see our houses on satellite (if not, you must be one of those people with "a life" and damn, i need to get me one of those), here's a blog devoted to sightseeing, google-style.


i like the fake ufos, personally.

The Latest Tara Reid photos with a little Superficial commentary.


teehee


And because Tara is gonna need a liver transplant soon, a post article about internet organ donation. And photogenicness. Because that is a word.

While I am certainly not paying enough attention to the confirmation hearings to have an opinion that I could post here to general criticism (but Roberts's tight-lippedness is making me nervous), I wanted to post this list of things to ask if ever you are in the position. He's gotta answer at least two of those as they shall never be pending before the court. Dahlia Lithwick over at Slate really doesn't like Roberts, tho. Ok, now I'll shut my piehole.


and this is kinda scary/interesting.

And the next book I'm reading (once I get through my P.D. James that's been sitting on the nightstand waaaaay too long) is Faster by James Gleick and then Genius. Because I need to read more nonfiction. Also because I love Richard Feynman so much that I've read every one of his books, saw Alan Alda's one man play about his later years and used to listen to his physics lectures on tape while falling asleep. I probably shouldn't have told you about that last one...

Football Update: There's no such thing as Beginner's Luck

I really really REALLY suck at picking football teams. Let's recap:

Week 1:
Pick Based On: Emotional Attachment to City (cities I've visited or like the names of, I picked)
Result: 2-3 (ouch)

Week 2:
Pick Based On: What three websites said (a composite)
Result: 1-4 (double ouch)

I tell all this to Kate, and she says "But you don't care about football." That's true, nor do I really care about the money (though it never hurts) but I care desperately about winning. I don't mind even losing a little. But being the DEAD LAST in our football pool is not making me feel fantastic. Now Victoria has been picking based on cities she'd like to visit and she is leading the pack. This is just not fair.

So Week 3 plan: Pick based on colors. Hopefully I won't be saying triple ouch on the blog next week.

weeee!

ok, bear with me. what i thought was low blood sugar is actually a gas leak. if this wasn't bad for me, I would so want my stove to leak allllll the time. whee!


that said, i'm going to helen's. i took her in, she takes me in, it's the circle of life, amen. Or "ramen"

Smack Talk

So my football pool* has been passing some spicy smack talk over the email channels. I couldn't help but to notice that the women were abstaining from the general trashy banter flying back and forth. Now I know that the ladies in this pool are not big on the football, because otherwise I think we'd be joining in the fray. And before you make some sort of crass gendered argument about women being the fairer sex, ask yourself two questions:

a. Have I played Trivial Pursuit with Julia?
b. Do I remember the pre-game smack talk, the midst-game disparagement and the post-game gloating?

I should join in. Heck, I can evenly distribute abuse with the best of them. Which these guys aren't.

tee-hee




*Yes! I know! I'm in a football pool! What IS up with that? Well...
a. I had no choice- I was in
b. I just need to pick teams every week (old plan: pick based on cities you want to visit/have emotional attachment too. Result: 2-3. new plan options: read sports pages (not likely) get someone who reads sports pages to advise me (much more likely) letting someone pick for me (any takers?))
c. I should learn about football sometime, right? Why not give it a try now? When people will be gathering and eating and talking during the football games every Sunday? After all, this is the same group that I watched the infamous Super Bowl with and I was the only one who saw Janet's nipple. It's an observant crowd.

O Brave New Season/ Which has such Shows in't!

Shows I am Totally and Unreservedly Excited About Based Solely on Who Writes Them/Short Commercial Previews:

Bones
Kitchen Confidential
My Name is Earl

Kinda Excited

Head Cases (tho it conflicts with my beloved Lost, so really not all that excited)
Reunion (could definitely suck a lot) (but I thought the same about Lost...)
Martha Stewart's Apprentice (will it bring back the magic of the original Apprentice?)

Lacking in Excitement So Much as to be Almost Asleep
Ghost Whistperer (Jennifer Love Hewitt needs to go find another job besides "acting." Maybe she could be a successful baker or accountant?)
(I can't think of any more. But I can get a perfect score on "serial killer or programming language inventor?" it's a gift.



and a curse)

I swear I'll get better at this updating-while-being-a-semidecent-student-while-working-and-fitting-in-"socializing" thing.

The Pursuit of Academic Excellence in Action

random email found when cleaning out inbox:

Me to X (in same class, during class period, about a tax concept): "that doesn’t make any sense"

X to Me, about a second later: “neither does your butt”


Why do I keep these things?

ETA: Academic writing is only fun if you can include sentences such as "for whilst it is not possible to discourage a cheese from moving from one country to another, it is possible to discourage a person." Can't you just see a frenchman trying (but failing) to talk sense into his EU community-trotting brie wheel?

I really think that a good handshake is essential. A couple of thoughts on my last couple of handshakes (the other person, not me):

• You can still be a manly man without squishing and rolling my knuckles.
  

• A quick hand wipe on your pants will take the edge off that hand sweat. I suffer from clammy hands too, honey. Believe me, my friend and I would play a game in high school called "handprints" where we would both press our hands on the black stone table for 10 seconds and then the second person whose sweaty hand print dissapeared would win. So I have felt your pain, and found a way around it. Follow me to the promised land.
  

• Too short = "The thought of touching you is repulsive." Too long= "I miss physical contact. Don't stop."

Really, the squish and roll is just rude. I think my knuckle is a little bruised.

Get rid of the Justin Timberlake Jingle while you're at it.

Because no one is "lovin' it" anymore.

I often have problems with commercials and their lack of sense-making. Especially if I don't like their product. So I'm airing those concerns right here. Hurray for you!

The Ad: Guy walks into his apartment, drops change in an empty coffee can on his bookcase. He does this for approximately a year, inferred from the changing clothes and the fullness of the coffee can. In the final cut, the guy walks in, dumps change and then the bookcase collapses. Then the Mcdonald's VO says "We save you a lot of change" or some other such crap.

My Retort: Well, that guy is gonna need that change to buy a new bookcase. And then probably to pay for his angioplasty after a year of eating Mcdonald's. Poor stupid guy who needs a new place for his books.



Anyways, that's it. That and this:

[Today. DSW. Me and Kate are walking past a Ham shop of some sort.]

Me: I don't like ham.
Kate: Neither do I.
Me: Really?
Kate: It's something about the texture and the smell.
Me: Yeah, totally. Ham is gross.


I like sharing things with people. Even little things- like the dislike of pig products. But turkey bacon? ludicrously tasty!

Bet you regret your hooge ass car now, eh?

I'm mean, I know.

Hasn't it seemed like the price of gas has taken over at least 20% of the conversation lately? Topics such as "That evil evil henchman Karl Rove" or "Britney Spears's Poor Forthcoming Destined to Be Screwed Up Child" have been abandoned in favor of "'Cheap' gas spotted out at Short Pump!" and "How Much I Spent on Gas Yesterday" and "In [Somewhere Else], They're Rationing Gas!!!"

Yesterday, someone informed me that gas would go over $3 today (note to non-Richmond readers: gas is comparatively cheap in the 804, so try and put yourselves in my shoes) (or car, rather.) That morning on the way to school, I had seen it at $2.55, so a 45c increase just didn't seem feasible, possible or plausible to me. Because I'm an idiot. As I uttered the famous last words- "Dood, I can't believe that" - I faintly heard the ominous rumble of thousands of gas station owners dragging out their ladders and rooting around the number drawer for the foot-tall 3's.

So the gas increase was the topic of much conversation yesterday, with reminiscences of my parents telling me about the 70's gas crisis and their ill-timed road trip cross-country as well as the creative gas-saving tips of others like finding roads without stop lights/signs so you never have to break if you pay really close attention to the other drivers (which sounds just downright fun. and slightly illegal.) And you could also play the amusing game of driving down Broad taking note of the prices, then driving back a half-hour later and watch the prices magically jump at least 20c. In the half-hour of waiting, you could also speculate on what is now cheaper by the gallon than gas: milk? tang? Boone's Farm?


Last night after we walked around the Fan in the gloaming, Vick made the proposal that we visit Target (sidenote: I think it's neat that they bought every ad in the New Yorker a few weeks ago- neat and canny, because even those of you who think it was dumb still thought about it, rt?) (And I am far more likely to visit Target than I am to ever buy a hand-crafted "flying pigs" bracelet or perfect safari hat). So we hopped in the 'trix and got in a good 15 minutes of Target time (deadline buying + forgetting favorite gym pants at home-home = walking out with two pair of what the brits call "track suit bottoms")

Then, as we drove to my secret cheap n' clean gas station, I hear "fopitafopitafopita" out of Vicky's window. Crap. You know and I know that repeated fopitas aren't the sound of a happy Matrix. But as the presence of other people often dulls my freak-out reflex, I thought "well maybe a seatbelt got caught in the door and is making a funny noise?" ahh, Delusion, my old friend. You've come to comfort me again.


Sure enough, we pull into the secret cheap n' clean gas station and Vicky points to my back passenger tire and says "Your tire's flat." And here's where the miracle occured. I said "Ok" and called my dad, who said "call Trip-A" and so I did, and then they told me it would be less than an hour, and so I called my dad back and he gave me advice on how not to be ripped off, and then I rang off and sat in the trunk-ish portion of my car. Then the guy showed up in 15 minutes, called us "dear" and "honey" and "sweetpea" while changing the tire, and then sent us on our way. And I felt calm and happy the whole time. WHAT'S UP WITH THAT?


Maybe I don't give myself enough credit. After all, I'm 24.5, I can handle a minor car problem. Heck, I can handle multiple minor car problems. I think I want to learn how to change my own tire so that next time I can handle it all on my own. Wouldn't that be kickass? Why don't we have classes in that?

Really, if I could have picked a time for my tire to go flat, I probably would have picked last night. I had Vicky to amuse me, a well-lit and unsketchy place to hang out while waiting, a very short wait time, a dead roach in the wheel well of my trunk (i blame yonkers), and a very capable tattooed gentleman to pop off the bad wheel and pop on the donut. And I think I'm just happier this year, I don't know why. It's nice.

The most awesomest part of the night? When we drove into the gas station, the low grade was $2.89. When we left? $2.99. [laughs with evil glee]


But in the light of the rising gas prices, I am seriously going to start walking to school at least once a week. It's only 4 miles or so. And I would be totally into a carpool if anyone from the Fan wants to do one. I have very flexible hours most of the time and I'll prolly force you to go to the gym with me if that is any sort of incentive.

And by a freaky coincidence (or not, as it's not like this is a uniquely julie problem), I bought the Bloc Party cd last night and what's the name of one of the tracks? "Price of Gas."