Blah

I have to read a couple of books tonight before I sleep but I wanted to link you to PostSecret, because if I were smart I would have thought of it myself.

OH NOS!

I am developing a debilitating addiction to full-fat ranch dressing.

I have to wear a skirt for flamenco. A. skirt. Do you know the last time I wore a skirt? Hint: IT WAS IN SPAIN. And now I will be wearing two skirts a week. Stupid.

However, the upside is that, for Monday and Wednesday classes, I have to walk a grand total of 100 feet from dorm-> class -> lunch -> class -> dorm. I can be a fat American Extraordinaire! w00t!

Hall meeting time to go. Bye!

WHOOPS

Happy belated blog birthday to me! I am 1!

A Poll for Those Who Search for Allison Clarke

Please heed:

Hi! Welcome to my blog. Who were you looking for and why? Have you found the appropriate person? Do I know you? Would I like to know you? Please explain yourself.

Love,

An Allison Clarke

Best Home Invasion Ever

So today, while I was embroiled in an extremely long but ultimately uplifting Trinity meeting, someone broke into my dormpartment and gave me furniture.

I had asked for furniture, you see, because I have quite a bit of floor space for only a bed and a desk chair. I asked for a loveseat and an end table, not expecting to get either, but hey you have to put these things on paper because that's how bureaucracy works. Besides, a loveseat and end table would perfectly compliment my beanbag chairs and the table I was planning on making from Tupperware containers and plywood.

Yeah, well, go bureaucracy. I got a full-sized couch, two enormous puffy chairs, two end tables, and a coffee table. In fact, I got so much furniture that half of the living room set is now resting its laurels in the bedroom, where it will never be used but will contribute to my claims of seating for 8+. None of my furniture is made from construction site scrap material! It is new and fluffy! I have two places for sleeping and three places for reading (well...four, I suppose, because the bathroom counts)!

YOU ALL HAVE TO COME SEE IT.

Can I just let you all know how unused I am to this "legal drinking age" thing? I went to a friend's apartment for dinner tonight, and at one point the phrase "toss me a Heineken" was used, and a spasm of illegal/legal duality coursed through my body. There is also my bottle of sake. Shh. It does not exist. Anyway, I haven't really had any of it to speak of, so it's like it's not there at all.

Also, I will be going to a party this weekend, and there will be DRINKING, and IT WILL BE OK. Holy shabeezus.

So there's this DDR tournament out on the quad, and...yeah, I'm going now.

FRESHIES ARE HERE!!!!

I am excited about the advent of an entire new age range for me to abuse and eventually shape into my own image.

More later, perhaps, if I can think of something funny to talk about.

Blast from the Past!

This is a classic from the mother upon deciding to come to foreign countries. It makes me giggle. Mayhap it will make you giggle, too.

"My thought process over the last 24 hours:

'Oh my god, I can't believe I'm going to Spain!!!! This is so cool! Allie can show me around, we can eat fun food, maybe take a little side-trip, wouldn't it be cool to go to London or the Mediterranean?, I don't care where I stay, as long as there aren't cockroaches IN the bed. Hmm, she'd better meet me at the airport since I don't speak Spanish.

This is so exciting!!! I wanna go tomorrow, I can't wait until November! Let's see, I need a passport, don't need a visa, a travel alarm clock, um, travelers checks? WHAT? $200 to get a passport in time??? Shit. Oh, well. It's worth it. Allie's in Spain! I'm going to Spain!!!

Wait a minute. What do I wear? I don't know how not to look like an American..I like my jeans and white sneakers! I can't wear any other shoes, my feet will hurt! I'm going to stand out like a sore thumb and some maniac will shoot me or blow me up and I've got kids to raise! And I DON"T SPEAK SPANISH! I know maybe 20 words total and 12 of them are the months of the year. Plus I can count to 10. And "*upside-down question mark* Donde esta el bano?" And I can't even remember the name of the little doo-hickey that goes over the 'n' that I can't type on this keyboard! OH MY GOD, WHAT THE FUCK AM I DOING?? I'M TOO STUPID TO GO TO SPAIN!'"

Thank you all for birthday wishes. I wuv you. Willowmist, I love Toronto though I never get to spend any real time there, so my judgement is based solely upon socialized health care and the AGO. I would not be averse to spending some time at York for graduate school, though, so mayhap I will learn better.

Why do I talk funny when I blog?

WTF

Please help me understand what could possibly be wrong with this fish. He does not know how to eat. I put the food in the bowl and he *stares* at it and makes little nibbly motions with his mouth, but will not eat it. I put the food in the bowl crushed into tiny pieces just for him, and he makes little nibbly motions with his mouth but will not eat it.

The only food I have this weekend is a loaf of bread and four ToastChee crackers. The crackers are gone and the loaf is dwindling. Also diving behind the refrigerator to hide from me.

Tonight

The moon is low and bright, huge and gold. It darts between the trees as I follow it across the quad. In front of Epworth it steps out of its nook, the man inside gaping at me as I cut across the porch.

The air is heavy and hot, and I hurry inside.

Earthshattering News

As of today, I can officially do ANYTHING I WANT ALL THE TIME.

Frightening, no?

Actually, the truly frightening thing is that I have realized that all I have left to look forward to is age 55, when the AARP benefits kick in. Might as well just kill myself now.

I tried to post a post earlier but couldn't think of anything to say except "I wrenched my back somehow while loading the truck yesterday, resulting in an injury that forces me to make a sound like ten thousand chihuahuas on speed whenever I do anything, ie. sneeze, sit, stand, sleep, pick up, put down, shower, etc".

That is true and it is something very close to consuming my life, which I'm sure is why I can't think of anything particularly fun to say. My dormpartment is the awesome, though. Best by a factor of 55 or more. And compy is back. Something interesting will come later.

Until then, imagine yourself herding ten thousand chihuahuas on speed and be thankful for whatever it is that keeps you from doing that.

Quick like a Bunny

I am in Delaware and alive. It's fricking hot. RoadTrip went fine thanks in no small part to my lack of qualms about bellowing song lyrics consisting mainly of "lalalal...something, something, she sleeps with my friends...HEYA, YEAH, YEAAAAAH" at the top of my lungs. First ever comment spam has been deleted, mostly because it was boring. I sleep on the floor. Will be back next week with compy and ethernet.

Tiny Rant!

1. Mildly objectifying and bad thing: Cillian Murphy is the hottest person alive. Haminahaminahamina.

2. Tiny rant, as Dante has encouraged me to post it. (See, Dante, now if it is bad it's your fault! I oughta go into government!)

--ooh, Cleopatra is on PBS again. My ambivalence towards that movie is really surprising.--

Anyway. So last week I went on a field trip to Toronto with my boss and another intern, and a good time was had by all. We were driving down the QEW on the way home when I saw a billboard with this photo


(image courtesy Stonyfield Farms)

bearing underneath the clever saying "Nicole is waiting for you". The ad was for a movie channel, Showtime or suchlike, I don't remember.

My question is this. There are thousands of movies with hot women in them. There are thousands and thousands of pictures of hot women from these movies. There are, I'm sure, many pictures of Nicole Kidman looking hot from many movies, if Nicole Kidman is what the ad people wanted. So why did they find it necessary to take Stepford Wives - the most important, most current, and/or most popculturefied feminist fairy tale - and turn it into a come-on? I haven't seen the new version, so I don't know how much they've changed the story, but the heaping of irony upon irony seems pretty blatant to me. It's a little thing, but it still makes me angry. So, so, so righteously angry.

Anyway, RoadTrip2005 begins tomorrow earlylike, so I am to bed now. I will see all you pretty people later.

This time next week I will be in Epworth! SQUEEEE!

(I had to go back and add an extra e to my squee, as it wasn't quite emphatic enough. Feel free to add as many es in your mind as is necessary to convince yourselves of how excited I am. I am liberal with my es.)

Other exciting things: Grendel is still beautiful, I have discovered that we get TBS, tomorrow I get my cavity filled (uh...ex...citing!), tomorrow I am also going out with my chickees to either the zoo or DDR or something (w00t), I am holding Cam's clothes hostage until he comes and sees me again, and SoloRoadTrip2005 begins in less than 48 hours.

Unexciting things: I gotta pack the whole damn car in between dental procedure and going out with chickees. Plus laundry. And how the hell do I have so many clothes? How are so many of them earmarked for going to the gym, especially when I haven't gone on so much as a WALK in weeks (I will explain this, there is a reason of sorts)? Also, I have a small feminist rant for you but I think you are getting tired of those, so I have not posted it. And I suppose I have to take the GREs at some point. I am good at standardized tests, but I no longer have the zeal to prove myself. Meeeeeeeeeeeehhhhhhhhhh.

Cavities: A Metaphor for Whatever I Feel Like

Do you ever have those nights when you lay down to go to bed and you know you have Something On Your Mind that makes it hard to sleep? The little ball of barbed wire in which all we good Clarkes keep dirty things like emotion, does that sit there in your chest until you do something about it?

Well, it happens to me. And before I can go to sleep on those type of nights, all I have to do is identify what it is that is bothering me. I don't have to address it, per se, just acknowledge its existence so that I can put safely aside for the next day. Usually.

So last night I had this little ball, and I spent a while searching for the little clasp that would spring the trap and let me fall asleep.

Returning the car and the inevitable beatdown that will ensue? No.
Going back to school with everybody graduated? No.
Moving? No.
RA training? No.
Work? No.
Cavity? BING!

Wait a minute. Cavity? Why cavity? There are horror and famine and death and people getting shot on the London subway for running while brown, and cavity? Cavity is nothing.

I think what it is is that I feel horribly betrayed by Cavity. For a very long time, my teeth and I had an agreement: they took the food I gave them and converted it to a form usable by my tummy, and in turn I ignored them and played like they didn't exist. Everyone was happy with this arrangement: teeth, tummy, self. Cavity did not exist. But now that I have decided to stop living dangerously and take care of the teeth with twice daily brushings and Listerinings when I can afford them and religious flossings, they turn on me! Impeccable oral hygiene should guarantee no Cavity! And it's not even like real health, where you can run 5 miles a day for 30 years and eat only organic carrots and still drop dead when you're 45, because real health has Unexplained Factors. Cavities have no unexplained factors: brush your teeth! you will not get them!

So it is the beginning of the end, and my body has begun to turn on me. In retribution (or fear?) I have temporarily cut pop-Coke-soda-carbonated-beverages from my diet, although it's not like I drink the stuff with real sugar in it so it shouldn't matter. Anyway, I am DETERMINED to not only kick the crap out of Cavity, but to keep his friends from moving in by putting plastic all over the furniture and keeping the fridge empty. Mr. Selfish can go out and get a job and pay some damn rent, is what he can do. Diseased, freeloading jerk.

Changes Done Come

All of us here at AlliSpain were saddened at the loss of Ernie, everyone's favorite diva betta. His bright purpleness and eternal bad humor will be missed by...well, some. How many afternoons will I spend ruminating on his propensity to hop the net and spend five minutes flopping around on the dryer? Or his great love for biting his own tail off? Or the time we had to cut him with razors? Ah, memories.

But AlliSpain is never one to be bogged down by romanticizing the past. In that spirit, Ernie's tail-biting, face-slapping place has been taken by Grendel, the new kid on the proverbial block or literal desk!



This is not Grendel, but it is a fairly accurate representation of him. (No photo cred, as somebody's photobucket account got suspended! OOOOPS!) His blue is a little grayer (steel, tis called) and reaches further up his body to his head - and of course his coloration is messier, because he's a petshop fishie and not purposely bred. I will work on getting a picture. But still, aren't he bootiful? I want to mate him with my Cambodian.

In other news, today I was diagnosed with my very first-ever cavity. I will have it filled next week. I am scared! Logically, I know that anyone who got three impacted wisdom teeth removed with only local anaesthesia should be laughing in the face of a mere (and tiny, at that) filling, but...but...but...needles in my mouth! SOB!

See, this is why I can't be a doctor. I don't mind the taking of blood as long as it is my own, but insertatory needles and other people's blood make me all kerflummoxed. Byargh. Agh. Nofe air.