Wednesday, April 19, 2006

operation: prospies

Last week I got an e-mail from the Student Honors Board begging for me to host one of the 150 prospective students who are coming to the Honors Overnight tomorrow.

Last year about this time, I myself attended an Honors Overnight. I took the train down from Philly with NJ and JP, was accosted by an ugly dude we named "Playa" who I still see around sometimes, and spent the night helping make sandwiches for the homeless in the school spiritual center.

So I read the e-mail and felt really guilty for not hosting a prospie, since I am actually a product of an overnight, and me and my roommate decided to go ahead and host some!

But we don't know what to do with them. We had a prospective once and it didn't turn out too well. She was this girl named Star who wanted to major in health-something. We told her not to go to our school 'cause...that's not a major here. So she spent the night in the lounge talking to her cousin who came with her, and we got drunk.

I would like to get drunk again tomorrow, but supposedly if you give alcohol to a prospie you get kicked out of school.

So, seriously? WHAT ARE WE SUPPOSED TO DO WITH THEM? The monuments are clichéd and everything else is closed at night. It's not like they come prepared to go clubbing. (At least...I hope they don't...that's weird.) Way to be a party town, DC.

Monday, April 17, 2006

gross.

My friend who lives next door was out of his room all night and returned this afternoon to find that someone had taken a shit on his laundry basket.

It was his roommate.

He then discovered that the clothes had also been peed on.

I'm so glad I'm not a frat boy.

Friday, April 14, 2006

I dunno, it's all Finnish to me

In honor of Easter/Passover, there has been a mass exodus of my friends.

In some ways it's good (my roommate is spending the weekend with her mother in a hotel so I get the room to myself), in some ways it's bad (I have to find someone to do the radio show with me tomorrow or else I have to do it alone. Eep.)

I remember when my family used to actually celebrate Easter. We kind of still do, but now it's more like "Chocolate Day." We used to at least go to church - we were bored out of our minds, but hey, showing up is 90% of the job! Then one day we had a landscaper come on Easter morning. And we never went back.

I actually have to go to a church service next week to write a paper about it for my Religious Thought class. JP, who is in my class, and I will probably be going to a service at the Greek Orthodox church in DC. It probably would have been a good idea to go on Easter but he's at home for the weekend and there's no way I'm going by myself.

I just know the second I walk in they'll smell the heresy on me and throw my sinful ass out onto the street. Or tie me down and make me watch "My Big Fat Greek Wedding." Terrible movie. The Greeks can all thank Nia Vardalos for inventing the greatest Greek torture device of all time.

...Now see, I just felt that I used "Greek" too many times in one sentence, so I typed it into thesaurus.com, and I love how Greek is basically equated with "bullshit."

Main Entry: drivel
Part of Speech: noun
Definition: talk
Synonyms: babble, balderdash, blather, bosh, bunk, bunkum, double-talk, gibberish, gobbledygook, Greek, hogwash, hooey, jabber, nonsense, poppycock, prating, rot, rubbish, stuff, tripe, twaddle

Why Greek? What did they ever do to anyone? (Forget the existence of Nia Vardalos for a moment.) I couldn't tell Greek from Czech from Scandinavian. It's like saying all Italians are mobsters, or all Asians are geniuses (Gina of ANTM fame killed that stereotype good and dead). All Greeks are full of BALDERDASH!

Tuesday, April 11, 2006

there's always someone cooler than you

I just read on a TWOP board that someone spotted Steve Carell filming his new movie "Evan Almighty" (sure to be a winner...SYKE!!11!!1) by some building by the Holocaust Museum.

In related news, I will be stalking Steve Carell for the remainder of the week.

It's too bad there's no gawker type celeb-stalker thing for DC, but even if there were it's not like there would be much other than "Rick Santorum seen at...the Capitol Building." My cinema professor last semester commented on how it's so much cooler living in NYC than DC. In NYC you can run into Brad Pitt. Here, my friends got excited when they went to a Senate hearing last week and took pictures of Condoleezza Rice.

On Thursday I went to see Ben Folds at College Park. It was awesome, and I think he's probably the best live performer I've seen. He plays the shit out of that piano, and he's actually coherent when he speaks between songs. I'm so sick of all the bands who think it's hilarious to act like they're stoned (or actually be stoned) onstage.

But, during the long, long metro ride out to College Park, my friend AS pointed out the new ads they have on the metro walls between Metro Center and Chinatown. They're these moving car ads. Gone are the days when you could pop in your iPod earbuds and stare blankly out the dirty window at nothing but blackness. Now they're trying to sell you fucking TOYOTAS while you're using public transportation. I guess the idea is that the poor carless folk who use the metro will see the ads while contemplating how gross it really is to hang onto the same pole that a thousand other dirty people touch every day, and think, "Wow! I could really use one of those right now!" and run out and buy one.

Maybe they're right. But if the next time I look out the window of a plane I see Ronald McDonald pimping hamburgers, I'll be fucking pissed.

Wednesday, April 05, 2006

alcohol + nail polish = CRAZY DELICIOUS (- delicious)

At about 10 last night my roommate suggested we get drunk. I was at home for a job interview last weekend, so I figured, Why not? I'm a college freshman and I haven't consumed alcohol in at least 7 days. Bring it on!

We bought chasers and had 2 of our friends come down to join us. We had some vodka. Overall it wasn't very interesting. The 2 friends had gone out into the hall at some point, but I'd stayed in the room and talked to my roommate and some of her sorority friends for a bit. About 20 minutes later I go outside and find them painting each other's toenails.

It was at this point that the situation quickly degenerated into what felt like a taping of VH1's "Flavor of Love," where angry drunk ghetto chicks claw each other in the name of a heroin-addled ex-rap "star." I'm going to give the parties involved simple nicknames in honor of the show.

Anyway, Aggressive was painting Neurotic's toenails pink, and I guess in her (very) slight drunkenness she thought it would be funny to also paint Neurotic's toes. Neurotic disagreed, and retaliated by painting Aggressive's jeans. At which point Aggressive flips shit.

Aggressive jumps up, yelling about the jeans, and shoves Neurotic. Into the wall. Neurotic falls down and lies on the floor and at this point I'm thinking Aggressive is just being mock-angry and didn't mean to knock Neurotic down, and that Neurotic is just lying on the floor because she's laughing and pretending she's hurt.

Nope.

Aggressive is seriously pissed about the jeans, and this time when she lunges for Neurotic again, I have to physically block her with my body. Our other friend Jewish goes to check on Neurotic, who's still lying on the floor. "You do NOT get nail polish on Seven jeans! You do NOT get nail polish on Seven jeans!" Aggressive informs us repeatedly.

Neurotic stands up after a second - she's fine, just in shock, I suppose - and runs away, presumably to the bathroom. The rest of us are making our "WTF????" faces and Aggressive just kind of stands there and finally goes, "Oh, I feel bad. I'll go get her."

Five minutes later they've reconciled in the girls' bathroom.

This might not sound so shocking, except for the fact that Aggressive is really anything but. This is the most laid-back girl I've met in my life. Forget nail polish - most of her pants have so many holes in them they look like a prairie dog colony is going to take up residence.

She didn't really have an explanation for her outburst. Just that she didn't know what happened. That's comforting!

Overall I think we all learned a very important lesson last night:

You do NOT get nail polish on Seven jeans.