Just rub your boobs on my hands.
I always forget how much I appreciate real food until I have it again.
Last night all of 604 piled into my car and drove through horrendous rush hour Cincinnati traffic to Springboro to visit my humble abode. Oma is babysitting my siblings while my parents are out of town and graciously invited the four of us for dinner. We arrived on the scene a little before 6-- as soon as we walked in the door it was chow time. The first course of our homemade meal was Oma's German salad: an array of fruits over a piece of lettuce with sweet and sour dressing. The second part of our meal consisted of cheese blintzes, cherry blintzes, apple blintzes, and chicken blintzes. Es schmeckt gut. (One of the few German phrases that I legitimately know.) After dinner we made a stop at Target to pick up some essentials. Once we were back in the car and en route to Dorothy Lane Market, we were minding our own business and bopping to some music when the man next to us cranked his hip hop-- the only way I saw fit to retaliate was to blast some death metal. Alyssa and Melinda slouched in the back wishing for their ear drums to implode while Bri an I hardcore danced to the best of our capabilities. The light turned green, the man sped off, and we did our best to get next to him. Once we were within a reasonable distance, Gwen Stefani's "Holla Back Girl" bumped from my speakers and we all gyrated; it is safe to say we were laughed at. At Dorothy Lane Market we purchased 20 of the most delicious cookies that you will ever put in your mouth. After driving through ritzy neighborhoods blasting Justin Timberlake and gyrating with our seat belts on, we did an about face and I managed to get us lost going back to my house. I hate you, Springboro. Really, I hate you.
Our door handle broke last night. Now, every time we must close the door from the outside, the handle falls off. It's quite the obstacle to finagle around.
Today Alyssa slept until 4:00 PM. We let her think that it was 9:30 AM, though, by changing her alarm clock and the clock on the microwave. She consulted her watch and chose to believe that it was really 9:30 AM so she synced her watch to the microwave. Bri and I are such tricksters.
Andrew and I got breakfast this morning. He looked like a lifeguard. It was fancy. We contemplated putting on red t-shirts and making name tags and faking participation in leading tour groups. It was really very tempting.
I had to work this evening. While driving on 71-N I found myself behind a Ford truck with a ball sac swaying from the back of a hitch. What a beautiful sight to behold. I folded lots of shirts and unlocked many dressing rooms. I left American Eagle satisfied. Bri was just hired there. Her "first day" is tomorrow. AE scores major points in my book for hiring one of the loves of my life. Holla'.
After returning to the dorms Bri called and asked if I could pick her up. I obliged. She was a mere 7 minutes away and, on the way there, I was given a free CD by a black man with large hair. We were stopped at a stop light on Calhoun St. and he rolled down his window, gave me a CD and our conversation went something like this (while driving on Jefferson he had waved and I waved back; a form of eye contact was made):
Man: Here you go, Sweetie.
Me: What's that?
Man: It's a CD. We have our own record label. We could use some fly girls like you listening to our stuff.
Me: *Extends body and hand out of driver's side window to snatch the CD from the man.* Sweet, thank you.
Man: No problem, pretty baby.
We drove off. The CD is currently in my car, which is currently under Bri's possession. I kind of want to listen to it. I love that things of the sort would only happen in Cincinnati. I am glad that I go to school here.
Tip and I just went to play softball on the turf next to the baseball stadium. Of course, on a night when I am hitting decently, I drive one dramatically left and it lands inside of the baseball field that is safe guarded by a 3 mile high fence-- or maybe more like 25 feet-- so it was impossible to get to. Tip told me to write a letter to UC is Listening to ask them to get my ball back. I told my tale of woe and made sure to mention that the ball has sentimental value. I think I should invest in some more softballs. Perhaps some generous body will read this and think it only right to send me some softballs in the mail. That, my friends, would be an extension of paying it forward.
Tomorrow I am on call from 1:15-5:15. Bri and I are going to see Aqualung during the evening. Andrew may be in tow if he decides he can find the time. DAAP. *Rolls eyes*
I have my History midterm on Monday. I need to devote a large portion of Sunday to studying. From the time I wake up, to the time I may go to work, to the time I am in the dorm before and after Aqualung I will be engulfed in my History book. Hopefully things will go swimmingly: I have read all of the material, attended all classes and taken diligent-like notes, and have already started to review. SockSuck it to me.
Last night all of 604 piled into my car and drove through horrendous rush hour Cincinnati traffic to Springboro to visit my humble abode. Oma is babysitting my siblings while my parents are out of town and graciously invited the four of us for dinner. We arrived on the scene a little before 6-- as soon as we walked in the door it was chow time. The first course of our homemade meal was Oma's German salad: an array of fruits over a piece of lettuce with sweet and sour dressing. The second part of our meal consisted of cheese blintzes, cherry blintzes, apple blintzes, and chicken blintzes. Es schmeckt gut. (One of the few German phrases that I legitimately know.) After dinner we made a stop at Target to pick up some essentials. Once we were back in the car and en route to Dorothy Lane Market, we were minding our own business and bopping to some music when the man next to us cranked his hip hop-- the only way I saw fit to retaliate was to blast some death metal. Alyssa and Melinda slouched in the back wishing for their ear drums to implode while Bri an I hardcore danced to the best of our capabilities. The light turned green, the man sped off, and we did our best to get next to him. Once we were within a reasonable distance, Gwen Stefani's "Holla Back Girl" bumped from my speakers and we all gyrated; it is safe to say we were laughed at. At Dorothy Lane Market we purchased 20 of the most delicious cookies that you will ever put in your mouth. After driving through ritzy neighborhoods blasting Justin Timberlake and gyrating with our seat belts on, we did an about face and I managed to get us lost going back to my house. I hate you, Springboro. Really, I hate you.
Our door handle broke last night. Now, every time we must close the door from the outside, the handle falls off. It's quite the obstacle to finagle around.
Today Alyssa slept until 4:00 PM. We let her think that it was 9:30 AM, though, by changing her alarm clock and the clock on the microwave. She consulted her watch and chose to believe that it was really 9:30 AM so she synced her watch to the microwave. Bri and I are such tricksters.
Andrew and I got breakfast this morning. He looked like a lifeguard. It was fancy. We contemplated putting on red t-shirts and making name tags and faking participation in leading tour groups. It was really very tempting.
I had to work this evening. While driving on 71-N I found myself behind a Ford truck with a ball sac swaying from the back of a hitch. What a beautiful sight to behold. I folded lots of shirts and unlocked many dressing rooms. I left American Eagle satisfied. Bri was just hired there. Her "first day" is tomorrow. AE scores major points in my book for hiring one of the loves of my life. Holla'.
After returning to the dorms Bri called and asked if I could pick her up. I obliged. She was a mere 7 minutes away and, on the way there, I was given a free CD by a black man with large hair. We were stopped at a stop light on Calhoun St. and he rolled down his window, gave me a CD and our conversation went something like this (while driving on Jefferson he had waved and I waved back; a form of eye contact was made):
Man: Here you go, Sweetie.
Me: What's that?
Man: It's a CD. We have our own record label. We could use some fly girls like you listening to our stuff.
Me: *Extends body and hand out of driver's side window to snatch the CD from the man.* Sweet, thank you.
Man: No problem, pretty baby.
We drove off. The CD is currently in my car, which is currently under Bri's possession. I kind of want to listen to it. I love that things of the sort would only happen in Cincinnati. I am glad that I go to school here.
Tip and I just went to play softball on the turf next to the baseball stadium. Of course, on a night when I am hitting decently, I drive one dramatically left and it lands inside of the baseball field that is safe guarded by a 3 mile high fence-- or maybe more like 25 feet-- so it was impossible to get to. Tip told me to write a letter to UC is Listening to ask them to get my ball back. I told my tale of woe and made sure to mention that the ball has sentimental value. I think I should invest in some more softballs. Perhaps some generous body will read this and think it only right to send me some softballs in the mail. That, my friends, would be an extension of paying it forward.
Tomorrow I am on call from 1:15-5:15. Bri and I are going to see Aqualung during the evening. Andrew may be in tow if he decides he can find the time. DAAP. *Rolls eyes*
I have my History midterm on Monday. I need to devote a large portion of Sunday to studying. From the time I wake up, to the time I may go to work, to the time I am in the dorm before and after Aqualung I will be engulfed in my History book. Hopefully things will go swimmingly: I have read all of the material, attended all classes and taken diligent-like notes, and have already started to review. SockSuck it to me.