I realize. . .

. . . this blog has totally gone to crap. Just so you know.

Guest Blog Entry: Vices

An early morning message from my blogless older sister:

I was coming out of the infamous Friendly's this morning; a place where the "friendly" staff share, after seeing your "Vote Pro-Choice" button, that the solution is not abortion, but slavery ... but that's another story. I was carrying my delicious morning treat - a 32-ounce-49-cent-keep-the-penny-every-morning treat, Diet Pepsi. It's my only vice (wink, wink) and the one I can admittedly say to which I'm addicted. As I was leaving the convenience store, I noticed an administrator from my office in her car just getting ready to leave. This is the woman who is very well put together at work and has her own one-sided competition with me about who can do more marathons. I quickly hid my morning treat behind me wondering if she'd seen me. She did. I noticed her similar coy movements as she too hid her morning treat from my view - but not before I noticed what it was; a pack of cigarettes, Marlboros. We both went about our pretense of not seeing the other. However, as I left I felt better about my Diet Pepsi and held it up proudly for everyone to see.

Weekend Recap

Dave and I spent the weekend in Michigan for a friend's wedding. I can't really say much about Michigan, though, because we spent most of our time in the hotel watching home improvement shows on TLC. We did drive a bit out of our way to sample the libations at Bell's Brewery in Kalamazoo. We drank over the lunch hour with the warehouse workers who came up from the basement. We seemed to fit in better than the briefcase carrying, flip-flop wearing, cell phone talking businessman who, when asked what he'd like to drink, replied that he'd take "Whatever is closest to Bud Light." The lady bartender should have given him water, but kindly suggested an Oberon instead. He took it and sipped it gently between bites of celery and hummus next to the warehouse workers scarfing burgers and drinking carafes of Bell's Porter.

Still, the guy seemed less bothered by his ill-fit than I did at table #8 at the wedding dinner. Each of the three couples with whom we sat took 20 minutes to share how their weddings differed from the one we were currently attending. I had to drink one glass of wine for each story. And I had to drink a fourth one when they asked if Dave and I were married? Engaged? Dating for how long? And a fifth during the sad silence that followed our answers -- as if we had just explained that we both had a terminal illness and didn't plan to make it through the year.

Vacation: Part Two

It seems really cool to be the graduate assistant on a really cool research project. And it will be, I'm sure. Right now, though, it means I really have to do all of the work. In a basement office. With cockroaches. Mostly dead.

Vacation: Part One

Having spent every day of last week in the Pacific Northwest with Dave and my usual travel gas, it was a nice surprise to receive a message from him yesterday telling me that he missed me. "I miss you?" it read. So, naturally, I replied, "You miss me is a question? Are you unsure?" His response: "Jesus Christ. This is romance. Not English."

Still Kicking

I'm in such a state of rebellion against anything remotely academic at this point in my summer I can hardly even stand to put a few words together about my day on this blog. In just a few short weeks, though, I'll have so many other things to read and write that stealing away time to write on the blog will be just what I need. Patience please.

Going To

We worked on the future tense in class tonight. Students had to write sentences by choosing the ending that made the most sense and adding it to the correct future form. More than one student created this combination:

I have a headache. I am going to major in psychology.

Why not. The form is correct, and under the right circumstances, it makes a lot of sense.

Question

Is it normal for a post office worker to ask: "What are you sending today?" The woman working at the branch near campus asked customer after customer -- and they all answered! Am I correct in thinking that our mail is private? I wanted to say, "None of your damn business!" when she asked me, but instead said, "Something for my dad." Help me out. Is this being asked from branch to branch or is she just nosy?