Red plastic drinking straws.
Headaches.
All things chenille.
Friday
Thursday
The Worst
Is it wrong that I'm so proud of the fact that out of the 100 worst reviewed movies of the decade, I've only seen ONE?
And it was Down To You in 2000. And the only reason I saw it was because my best friend in high school had a mad crush on Freddie Prinze, Jr.
Check it out:
Worst of the Worst: Counting down the worst reviewed movies of the last ten years
And it was Down To You in 2000. And the only reason I saw it was because my best friend in high school had a mad crush on Freddie Prinze, Jr.
Check it out:
Worst of the Worst: Counting down the worst reviewed movies of the last ten years
Wednesday
Jessica <3s the BSC
Ah, books. I love books. I'd like nothing more than to move into an old mansion with an enormous library filled with all of my books. I would have an antique fainting couch set up in the plant filled solarium adjacent to the library of my dreams, and in it I would spend my days sprawled there with many cups of tea, rising only to fetch myself another book or some cookies for my tea.
****
When I was growing up I was a voracious reader. Hand-me-down books from my older cousins, library books, monthly trips to the mall to stock up on all the new young adult releases, my appetite was never satiated.
In third grade I became obsessed with The Baby-sitters Club series. By the time I was in eighth grade I had to stop openly reading them because I was afraid that I would be made fun of by my friends, but it didn't stop me from re-reading them at home on snow days or school vacations. When I left for college, nearly 100 books from the BSC series were still proudly displayed on my bookshelf. During the summer after my freshman year, I decided in a fit of pique to box them up and put them away. Six months later my mother casually asked me if I would mind donating them to the special needs classroom at my old middle school, and I agreed.
I won't say that I regret the decision. I did it because I imagined a pre-teen girl with special needs gaining some valuable reading skills. I did it because I wanted other girls out there to enjoy the books that meant the world to me during my childhood. But... I know this sounds crazy, but deep down I know a part of my innocence was lost forever in that big box of books. At least that's how it feels. And I wish I'd prepared myself to lose that girl. Sometimes I really miss her.
****
Recently I learned that Ann M. Martin has written a prequel to The Baby-sitters Club series entitled The Summer Before, and that it will be published in the spring of 2010. It is rumored that this will kick off a reprinting of the entire series sometime after. This makes me smile.
****
When I was growing up I was a voracious reader. Hand-me-down books from my older cousins, library books, monthly trips to the mall to stock up on all the new young adult releases, my appetite was never satiated.
In third grade I became obsessed with The Baby-sitters Club series. By the time I was in eighth grade I had to stop openly reading them because I was afraid that I would be made fun of by my friends, but it didn't stop me from re-reading them at home on snow days or school vacations. When I left for college, nearly 100 books from the BSC series were still proudly displayed on my bookshelf. During the summer after my freshman year, I decided in a fit of pique to box them up and put them away. Six months later my mother casually asked me if I would mind donating them to the special needs classroom at my old middle school, and I agreed.
I won't say that I regret the decision. I did it because I imagined a pre-teen girl with special needs gaining some valuable reading skills. I did it because I wanted other girls out there to enjoy the books that meant the world to me during my childhood. But... I know this sounds crazy, but deep down I know a part of my innocence was lost forever in that big box of books. At least that's how it feels. And I wish I'd prepared myself to lose that girl. Sometimes I really miss her.
****
Recently I learned that Ann M. Martin has written a prequel to The Baby-sitters Club series entitled The Summer Before, and that it will be published in the spring of 2010. It is rumored that this will kick off a reprinting of the entire series sometime after. This makes me smile.
Tuesday
Totally Uninspired
Day 2 and I'm already in over my head. Bah!
Here are links to a few sites guaranteed to make you chuckle:
A webcomic of romance, sarcasm, math, and language
Are you experiencing a Must Share Hair day?
E-mails from an asshole
No Room Service, Just Snacks and Shit - and other ridiculous rap lyrics
Here are links to a few sites guaranteed to make you chuckle:
A webcomic of romance, sarcasm, math, and language
Are you experiencing a Must Share Hair day?
E-mails from an asshole
No Room Service, Just Snacks and Shit - and other ridiculous rap lyrics
Monday
Ah, to be young again...
In honor of Nablopomo (and because I have nothing else of note to post) I'm going to seize the day and have a total 13 year old girl 'Dear Diary' moment... let's see if I remember how to do this properly, since it's been 12 years.
Dear Diary,
I saw the most gorgeous guy at the supermarket today and he totally checked me out! And get this, he was with a group of corporate managers touring the store, so he must have been REALLY interested if he was distracted by little old me in front of his boss and such. I lingered in the aisle for a few minutes and he looked back at me three times. This hardly ever happens to me. It feels good to be noticed. I wonder if he was Jewish?
XoXo,
Jessica
Dear Diary,
I saw the most gorgeous guy at the supermarket today and he totally checked me out! And get this, he was with a group of corporate managers touring the store, so he must have been REALLY interested if he was distracted by little old me in front of his boss and such. I lingered in the aisle for a few minutes and he looked back at me three times. This hardly ever happens to me. It feels good to be noticed. I wonder if he was Jewish?
XoXo,
Jessica
Sunday
Friday
Crush With Eyeliner
Once I had a crush on my Geology professor. Even though I had no real desire to take the course and the only reason I did was because it was the only thing that would fit into my schedule and I needed the credits to graduate... despite all this I ended up crushing mighty hard.
This type of thing happens to me more than you would think. Let's just say that despite being a young nubile I have enough bitterness in me to fill a steamship cargo hold, and boy does that screw with one's ability to form interpersonal relationships. Hyperbole? What's that? Anyway, why date assholes when you can daydream about the perfect crush? I know.
Added to, or perhaps fueled by my bitterness, these intense crushes have almost always been older men. (As an aside, does anyone really like guys under the age of 25? They're assholes, right? See, I told you so.) My point is I'm the kind of girl who silently crushes on her boss, her professor, her best friend's older brother, the FedEx guy, etc. I've never actually DONE anything about these crushes, mind you, which is why I will probably die an old spinster, alone and with my face eaten off by my cats. Oh well.
So I once had a crush on my Geology professor. He had the most adorable Minnesota accent; a Princeton-then-Oxford Rhodes scholar who was tall, lean and married with three adorable little girls. He also had the dorkiest personality of anyone I'd ever met, and I got to bask in the glow of that dorkiness three whole times a week. It was just that he was so crush-worthy simply because he had no idea how cute and awesome he was, you know? He hated being called 'Professor' because he said it made him sound old and wise, neither of which he aspired to be. How can you not want to jump the bones of a man like that? And even if I had been the kind of girl that would try to seduce him, he would have been totally oblivious to my advances because he was probably thinking about organizing the department's next rock collecting field trip or something.
I recall one instance where I walked into class and before I even knew it the words were coming out of my mouth and I was walking up to him and saying, "Gosh, you look nice today. That's a great shirt! Green is such nice color on you." And somewhere inside my brain there were synapses that started firing off something that might have been loosely interpreted as, "What the fuck? Did you just compliment him on his SHIRT? Why? WHY?! ABORT! NOW!" Luckily for me I didn't have to ruminate on this lesson in total mortification for too long. A few weeks later at the end of his Powerpoint lecture my professor gave me a gift that I took to be a sign of absolution.
"So," he said. "Why are we interested in studying volcanoes? Not because it gives us insight into all kinds of processes going on deep inside the Earth. Nope, we do it because VOLCANOES KILL BABIES!" And there it was... an animated screen with a baby tumbling down a volcanic hillside, screaming "Wheeeee!" over and over again while drenched in molten lava.
I burst out laughing. Just me. No one else. And I SNORTED. Gah, the humiliation! And then he smiled at me and said, "Nobody else besides Jessica here likes my jokes, eh? Oh well, tough crowd. I'll get ya next time."
VOLCANOES KILL BABIES, people. And dorky professors break my heart. Don't you forget it.
This type of thing happens to me more than you would think. Let's just say that despite being a young nubile I have enough bitterness in me to fill a steamship cargo hold, and boy does that screw with one's ability to form interpersonal relationships. Hyperbole? What's that? Anyway, why date assholes when you can daydream about the perfect crush? I know.
Added to, or perhaps fueled by my bitterness, these intense crushes have almost always been older men. (As an aside, does anyone really like guys under the age of 25? They're assholes, right? See, I told you so.) My point is I'm the kind of girl who silently crushes on her boss, her professor, her best friend's older brother, the FedEx guy, etc. I've never actually DONE anything about these crushes, mind you, which is why I will probably die an old spinster, alone and with my face eaten off by my cats. Oh well.
So I once had a crush on my Geology professor. He had the most adorable Minnesota accent; a Princeton-then-Oxford Rhodes scholar who was tall, lean and married with three adorable little girls. He also had the dorkiest personality of anyone I'd ever met, and I got to bask in the glow of that dorkiness three whole times a week. It was just that he was so crush-worthy simply because he had no idea how cute and awesome he was, you know? He hated being called 'Professor' because he said it made him sound old and wise, neither of which he aspired to be. How can you not want to jump the bones of a man like that? And even if I had been the kind of girl that would try to seduce him, he would have been totally oblivious to my advances because he was probably thinking about organizing the department's next rock collecting field trip or something.
I recall one instance where I walked into class and before I even knew it the words were coming out of my mouth and I was walking up to him and saying, "Gosh, you look nice today. That's a great shirt! Green is such nice color on you." And somewhere inside my brain there were synapses that started firing off something that might have been loosely interpreted as, "What the fuck? Did you just compliment him on his SHIRT? Why? WHY?! ABORT! NOW!" Luckily for me I didn't have to ruminate on this lesson in total mortification for too long. A few weeks later at the end of his Powerpoint lecture my professor gave me a gift that I took to be a sign of absolution.
"So," he said. "Why are we interested in studying volcanoes? Not because it gives us insight into all kinds of processes going on deep inside the Earth. Nope, we do it because VOLCANOES KILL BABIES!" And there it was... an animated screen with a baby tumbling down a volcanic hillside, screaming "Wheeeee!" over and over again while drenched in molten lava.
I burst out laughing. Just me. No one else. And I SNORTED. Gah, the humiliation! And then he smiled at me and said, "Nobody else besides Jessica here likes my jokes, eh? Oh well, tough crowd. I'll get ya next time."
VOLCANOES KILL BABIES, people. And dorky professors break my heart. Don't you forget it.
The Not So Distant Past
These are excerpts of entries I wrote in my journal during my senior year of high school...
September 11, 2001:
you are evil incarnate.
you are lies.
you are suspicion.
you are fear.
you are Palestinians dancing in the street.
you are cowardice.
you are steel, glass, and concrete raining down.
you are a rapist and a murderer.
you are despicable.
you are evil and you will pay.
September 12, 2001:
In a world where everything is supposed to be all right ...
things are not all right. I need to keep moving ... doing something, anything. I certainly can't think anymore ... can I? Do I have to do this? I have to do this. I'm so scared ... because I have to grow up in a hurry now. This is America. This is me. And if I'm not strong, if we're not strong ... then who will be?
September 13, 2001:
Thursday already. Thursday already? The shock is subsiding I think. Now I'm just angry on so many levels. I can't believe I had the balls to tell the principal I wasn't going back to my classroom on Tuesday morning. I stood my ground and stared her down when I called my mom from the pay phone by the front office. I'm pretty sure I was the reason she decided to send that memo to the teachers telling them to turn off the televisions. Can you believe that? She told them we weren't allowed to watch what was happening. Fucking wench. Only half the teachers complied.
Mr. L drew a map of where the planes came from and where they went in physics class that same afternoon. And then he gave us The Speech:
"So that's that. I want you all to know that I'm proud of the way you're handling this today. You're good kids, smart kids, strong kids. Don't let this rattle you. You all need to be on your toes now. We've got you covered for the time being. I have faith in you. There is nothing you can't do or can't fix with the God given gifts you have been given. You live in the best country in the world and that is a gift too. Remember that. Learn from this. I think you all get what I mean by that."
So that's that. Drafted. Just like that. We get to save the world now? Save the United States now? I didn't even know until this week that it needed that much saving....
September 11, 2001:
you are evil incarnate.
you are lies.
you are suspicion.
you are fear.
you are Palestinians dancing in the street.
you are cowardice.
you are steel, glass, and concrete raining down.
you are a rapist and a murderer.
you are despicable.
you are evil and you will pay.
September 12, 2001:
In a world where everything is supposed to be all right ...
things are not all right. I need to keep moving ... doing something, anything. I certainly can't think anymore ... can I? Do I have to do this? I have to do this. I'm so scared ... because I have to grow up in a hurry now. This is America. This is me. And if I'm not strong, if we're not strong ... then who will be?
September 13, 2001:
Thursday already. Thursday already? The shock is subsiding I think. Now I'm just angry on so many levels. I can't believe I had the balls to tell the principal I wasn't going back to my classroom on Tuesday morning. I stood my ground and stared her down when I called my mom from the pay phone by the front office. I'm pretty sure I was the reason she decided to send that memo to the teachers telling them to turn off the televisions. Can you believe that? She told them we weren't allowed to watch what was happening. Fucking wench. Only half the teachers complied.
Mr. L drew a map of where the planes came from and where they went in physics class that same afternoon. And then he gave us The Speech:
"So that's that. I want you all to know that I'm proud of the way you're handling this today. You're good kids, smart kids, strong kids. Don't let this rattle you. You all need to be on your toes now. We've got you covered for the time being. I have faith in you. There is nothing you can't do or can't fix with the God given gifts you have been given. You live in the best country in the world and that is a gift too. Remember that. Learn from this. I think you all get what I mean by that."
So that's that. Drafted. Just like that. We get to save the world now? Save the United States now? I didn't even know until this week that it needed that much saving....
Tuesday
So!
1. I forgot my blog password. For three months. I never forget things. But I remembered it today and now I've tattooed it on my inner thigh so the next time I forget I can just take off my pants and look it up. No more excuses for not blogging!
2. I turn 25 on Sunday. Good grief, I am old.
3. I am coveting a particular sale item on the J.Crew website like you would not believe. I have been willing the price to go down and a free shipping perk to come up for two weeks now. I have even dreamed about this item, that is how deep my obsession goes. It's ridiculous. I should just purchase it already (because it's my birthday, yo) but I know if I do the price will lower again and I will forever associate this coveted item with getting screwed out of a sale. Such is my first world whine in this economy, har har har.
4. I can't stop watching TLC. Enough said.
5. The other day I drank a cup of tea and popped a Claritin and spent the rest of the day and half the night in misery, feeling like my heart was going to explode. It reminded me of the time in college when I didn't have any Advil so I took Excedrin and my roommate wanted to take me to the ER because my heart was pounding so hard I was dizzy. And it also reminded me of the time in high school when I Robotripped from the children's dosage of Robitussin- I was floating above my bed watching myself sleep. Insanity. I am clearly allergic and/or sensitive to all things caffeine and DMX.
2. I turn 25 on Sunday. Good grief, I am old.
3. I am coveting a particular sale item on the J.Crew website like you would not believe. I have been willing the price to go down and a free shipping perk to come up for two weeks now. I have even dreamed about this item, that is how deep my obsession goes. It's ridiculous. I should just purchase it already (because it's my birthday, yo) but I know if I do the price will lower again and I will forever associate this coveted item with getting screwed out of a sale. Such is my first world whine in this economy, har har har.
4. I can't stop watching TLC. Enough said.
5. The other day I drank a cup of tea and popped a Claritin and spent the rest of the day and half the night in misery, feeling like my heart was going to explode. It reminded me of the time in college when I didn't have any Advil so I took Excedrin and my roommate wanted to take me to the ER because my heart was pounding so hard I was dizzy. And it also reminded me of the time in high school when I Robotripped from the children's dosage of Robitussin- I was floating above my bed watching myself sleep. Insanity. I am clearly allergic and/or sensitive to all things caffeine and DMX.
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