I found this a few weeks ago and I am still amazed. Phrases like, "Making out usually consists mostly of French kissing, although this is not a requirement." take defining to a whole new level. Oh, and if anyone was wondering about "bases," it's all there layed out in black and white.
We decided, though, that the Covenant College bases are a little different. First base is cuddling during movies, then second base is the DTR that quickly follows the cuddling during movies (after the girl agonizes to her roommates for hours about how she has no idea what's going on). Then the couple may or may not move on to holding hands. Kissing is definitely a homerun (please note the "asymmetry in kissing" section of the link, fascinating stuff) and anything past that just isn't really discussed.
Thwarted by the US Postal Service. I just went down to the Post Office to send a package and buy some stamps. I haven't bought stamps in awhile and I was interested in seeing what patterns were available now. There were the flag/statue of liberty ones that I don't like at all. Then there were these blue and yellow love bird ones that I think are pretty, but Keri already has them. Then there were these nice swirly purple and white ones that I really liked. So of course I chose them. The post office man took them out of the bundle and folded them up for me, and only then did I notice the words "Our Wedding Stamps" printed in swirly letters on the outside of the card they were printed on. Damn.
And since Natalie has already started it I feel I should share my side of the story. St. Patrick's Day is the biggest holiday in Boston, bigger than Christmas, bigger than anything. So while I was at work on the sixteenth I asked my boss what I should do to experience the really Boston St. Patrick's day. She proceeded to give me a run down of all the possible activities and ended up telling me that I needed to be outside The Black Rose at six in the morning so I could get in on the hot Dropkick Murphys/Guinness action there. "First Guinness served at eight." And I laughed heartily at the idea of getting out of bed that early.
That night when I got home Eb and Natalie were already thoroughly wrapped up in the madness that is Settlers of Catan, so of course we had to keep playing, we had to keep playing until I won, and I did win, even though we played to fifteen points instead of the usual ten (which is very difficult with no expansion sets). Ha! HA! (hm, I maybe getting this night mixed up with the next night, but either way I did win at some time and it should be noted). And then we had to go with the plan that was already scheduled earlier that day--to watch Y Tu Mama Tambien and Thirteen back to back. The movies ended around three or four and led into a long conversation that lasted until I noticed that the sky outside was starting to get light. Then the idea struck--the Guinness and The Black Rose. So we looked it up, saw the words "no cover charge" and even though none of us is a fan of The Dropkick Murphys, we all have people we love who are and that was enough to make us get up and put our coats (and lots and lots of green clothing) on.
We got to the place around six fifteen and found the line already about three blocks long. We joined in and were encouraged to stay (even though I couldn't imagine how all these people were fitting into that tiny pub up there) by the constant barragement of free stuff (hats, CD's, DVD's, beads). We waited there so long that we couldn't move anymore. My toes started to be in horrible horrible pain. I started to think about all the stories of frostbite I'd heard. At almost eight o'clock we heard something about not being able to get in to The Black Rose after all. A few people went to investigate and after Eb came back and told us they were only letting ten more people in (and there were still about forty people in front of us, not to mention people behind us threatening to kill people if they couldn't get in) we decided to cut our losses and go find someplace warm. We were almost frozen at this point and it's strange walking when you can't feel important parts of the process, like your legs. We recovered over bagels in Au Bon Pain and then went home to sleep.
I took my sixth trip to the airport this morning. Then I worked an eight hour day on two and a half hours of sleep. I felt strange all day, not sleepy, just out of sorts. There was something wrong and I kept forgetting what it was. So yes, I came home, had a nap, then got up and ate the ginger chews and cheese that had just been brought home from the grocery store. I find groceries so exciting. I hate buying them, but I love going through them after they're bought. Natalie and I stopped at Trader Joe's last night and we just had such a great time looking through our stuff on the T ride home--cereal, nuts, juice, coconut sorbet, peanut butter panda puffs--all so much more exciting when it's new. My mom goes on a big shopping trip once every two weeks or so and I love waking up on my trips home and finding out she's just brought home all kinds of food that I never get on my own. Even the jars of peanut butter are exciting. Usually I do my grocery shopping at the local Shaw's but we do make occassional trips to Whole Foods, which is like a shining paradise of a grocery store. I do actually like shopping there because every aisle is like discovering my own Swiss Family Robinson island with new foods and strange things I want to try. I love new foods. We bought rose jam the other day, Earl's idea. It's beautiful; it really is jam, with bits of rose petal in it and everything. I ate it with nutella and it was like having a Turkish Delight sandwich. Now everyone is gone and Eb took the rose jam and I'm getting ready to go to sleep again for the second time today.
I am losing the family farm. My crops are failing and they're closing down my stone quarries and the big businesses are chopping down my woods. Late night Settlers of Catan means a lot of nonsense and singing about trading wood for wheat.
The other day Evan was talking about the possibility IM novels and blog novels and although I think the idea is a good one I have seen it realized today in some really horrible ways. I already knew about the book ttyl by Lauren Myracle, a novel written in the form of instant messages between three high school girls. Now if this were realistic instant messaging the novel would be completely unreadable, and when things are straightened out into understable prose it just feels dry and stylized. I haven't actually read it, just glanced through to see how the form worked out. Looks like the sequel just came out--ttfn, gotta catch 'em all. Today I was digging through our delivery boxes and I found this: Confessions of a Boyfriend Stealer [a blog] by Robynn Clairday. I don't think this is quite what Evan had in mind. It's basically a diary format, with a few comments attatched at the end of each chapter. I found one entry with links of any kind and they were to Doritos and M&M's, the author's two favorite snack foods.
I can understand why the authors for Young Adult girls are writing this kind of stuff. That group is very open to experimental stuff and right now they're all going crazy over Manga like Boys Over Flowers and Fruits Basket, American authors have to keep up. It is sad, though, that they've taken what could have been really exciting forms of prose and turned them into what is only a sad imitation of what happens everyday on junior high girls' AIM accounts and xanga blogs.
I feel like I spend so much of my time just trying to remember the alphabet. I work in a library and after awhile my brain gets so tired from trying to deal with the patrons that it can't remember whether "w" comes before or after "v." Working in a library does make for some interesting stories, though. The other day we got a package in one of our delivery boxes that had a note attatched. It read: "This item belongs to you and was sent to us to fill a hold. Item is covered with what appears to be urine." Someone really didn't like Nickleback. I also had a very old man come in the other day to pay his library fines. All ten cents of them. "I just don't want to have any debts when I die." he explained. Library fines kind of have an aura all their own. Some people really resent having to pay anything at the library and others go on and on about how glad they are to be giving to such a good cause. Oh, and McSweeney's put up a new Dispatch from a Public Librarian today. Brilliant.
Because I do not hope to turn again
Because I do not hope
Because I do not hope to turn
Desiring this man's gift and that man's scope
I no longer strive to strive towards such things
(Why should the aged eagle stretch its wings?)
Why should I mourn
The vanished power of the usual reign?
Because I do not hope to know again
The infirm glory of the positive hour
Because I do not think
Because I know I shall not know
The one veritable transitory power
Because I cannot drink
There, where trees flower, and springs flow, for there is nothing again
Because I know that time is always time
And place is always and only place
And what is actual is actual only for one time
And only for one place
I rejoice that things are as they are and
I renounce the blessed face
And renounce the voice
Because I cannot hope to turn again
Consequently I rejoice, having to construct something
Upon which to rejoice
And pray to God to have mercy upon us
And I pray that I may forget
These matters that with myself I too much discuss
Too much explain
Because I do not hope to turn again
Let these words answer
For what is done, not to be done again
May the judgement not be too heavy upon us
Because these wings are no longer wings to fly
But merely vans to beat the air
The air which is now thoroughly small and dry
Smaller and dryer than the will
Teach us to care and not to care
Teach us to sit still.
Pray for us sinners now and at the hour of our death
Pray for us now and at the hour of our death.
--T. S. Eliot