Saturday, April 30, 2005

My grandmother's favorite show on television is JAG. She watches it faithfully every Friday night and the other 5 times daily it airs on different channels. Last night was the season finale and the last time the hot guy (Harm...what?!!) would be on it. And from the looks of it, it's the last time the hot girl (Mac) would be on it, too. JAG is not a very good show, and I'm convinced that the only reason it's still going is because of the sexual tension between the two beautiful leads, who decided to get married (FINALLY) last night after a grueling hour of watching them pack up their apartments to go to new, separate assignments. And while packing, they'd stare blankly into the air as we were forced to watch some of the more tender moments they had shared on the show. I was in agony thinking, "Good grief, just get it over with!" For an entire hour this happened. The last 5 minutes of the show, the producers gave its audience what it's been waiting on for almost a decade now.

Yeah, I was watching it last night, but only because I promised my g-ma I'd come home to watch it with her. She was so excited when she was telling me that it looked like Harm was going to propose to Mac. So now that they're getting married and leaving the show, there is no way this show is going to last more than another season. Those two were the draw for this crappy military justice drama. Unfortunately, I will be subjected to its crappiness again and again since my grandmother watches every single rerun shown. Mimi, what about Seinfeld or Will & Grace or CSI or Law and Order: SVU? Those are GOOD reruns.

Wednesday, April 27, 2005

Dear professors of the world,

Never walk into your 8:00 AM class and say, "We're not having class today." NEVER. EVER. DO THAT! I don't care if you sit there and talk about Cher for the entire hour. Do not cancel class at 8 AM because that morning when my alarm clock would have gone off, I would have most likely had an inner struggle comparable to Vietnam. And because I would reason that I should go because I would have skipped class recently, my body would lose that conflict. Now I could JUST NOW be getting out of bed to shower, dress, and get to campus for my 10:00 class. (Yeah, that sentence deserved two nows.)


Everybody's favorite smart-ass.

Monday, April 25, 2005


I just spent the last 3 hours chatting online with a group of Tori fans. Molly Knight did not go west this weekend to see the final shows, so she hosted an online chat for people who have to actually be somewhere important in the morning and who could not attend the show in San Francisco. I cracked up so hard tonight. Everyone was freaking out because Tori played the. worst. setlist. ever. OH MY GOSH! I'm becoming a setlist snob! What have I done? I'm such a nerd, y'all. I wasted three hours chatting with people about a concert we weren't attending and how if Tori would only give us a call before going on, her concerts would be that much better. Tonight was an "M" night. She played, like, 6 (maybe it was 5) songs in a row that started with M. People were all a rage in the chat. It was quite funny. We've concluded that if she is going to stick to a letter, it needs to be S or R, and she needs to do it on the harpsichord. BRING BACK THE HARPSICHORD, TORI!

I have a test on the sheep brain in the morning, and I just wasted all that time on that chat. < /nerdiness>

I can't believe I just admitted that. I need help.

Friday, April 22, 2005

I miss the days of going to a school where people were morally dependable. I don't miss the prudishness of most of those people, but I appreciate honesty as much as anyone. I knew that when I went to take tests 99.9% of the people were making their grade through hard work and effort. I wouldn't see students exchanging papers, discussing answers, or pulling out notebooks to look up needed information. I knew that if the campus shelled out money for great technology, they would also spend on locks and alarms to secure that technology, not that it was THAT necessary because of the code of honor that existed on campus.

Well, I don't go to that school anymore. It's disheartening to slave and stress over information to pull off a great grade when I see so many people cheating their way through school. I've come to appreciate making a B because I know that my B is honest, but I still get pist off when the dumbest of numbskulls gets an A because she and her neighbor compared tests throughout the entire thing. I hate being treated like a slacker when I go to professors to discuss problems I'm having with certain material. I am NOT those other students.

Anyway, a couple weeks ago, I noticed a new installment hanging in a hall of the chemistry building: a HUGE plasma-screen television. I made the comment to a classmate, "Whose bright idea is that? That won't last long." This morning I went into class, and where there used to be projectors hanging from the ceiling, there were cables. Where there had been a computer, there was dust. And sure enough, there is no longer a television in the hallway. I first thought that some modifications to the room were being done because stuff was moved around the other night when I had another lecture. But the professor stated that someone stole the equipment in the middle of the night and they had dropped, damaged, and left one of the projectors somewhere on campus.

That just makes me mad. Not only am I angry that someone would steal this stuff that made our lives so much easier, but I am angry that the school NEVER LOCKS THE DOORS!!! Last semester, there was a room in the newest building on campus where I always went to study. It was always unlocked, it was huge, it had large windows, and no one was ever in there. Since it's in the building where people learn to fly and stuff, the equipment is extra-nice and sophisticated. I would walk into that building and that room at 8PM sometimes and not leave until midnight, and not another soul was ever in that building. I often thought of how easy it would be to snag that stuff. I can't believe that the university would think that NO ONE would see what I saw and play out the scenario for their own gain. It's sad that the world is in a state that we have to think the worst before the best. was a pretty crappy one. I went to the lab to finish a project and to get a headstart on another. It was a wreck. Three hours of work flew by with little to show for it. I was frustrated the entire time because I kept over-looking steps or contaminating my solutions. I ruined some of my favorite pants by squirting ammonium molybdinate on them. I felt like setting the building on fire. After leaving, I went home and found no solace there. AND I learnt that there's a reason for my hormonal imbalance. I couldn't deal with people effectively, so I just didn't talk to anyone. Then I got this email from a stranger in Alaska who had some nice things to say, and it cheered me up immensely. I have no idea who she is, but I was in such a great mood after that. So thank you, reader in the darkness, for making my day...yesterday.

Tuesday, April 19, 2005

A few photos from the "meet and greet":

"Tori Freak". I think that was written on the back of a Knicks' jersey. Why would someone put that on the back of a Knicks' jersey? Because he is a Tori freak! Ah-HA! I've got it! (There is nothing wrong with that, though. I am also a slight freak.)

I told y'all I made that t-shirt. Well, here it is with the arms of Molly Knight wrapped around it.

Part of me still says that I should have gone to stand up out of the group so that I could have taken some better pictures of Tori, but the other part of me wanted to have the full "meet & greet" experience. So I stayed, and this is the best shot I could get while clicking pictures over the heads of the 40+ standing in front of me. I think she looks beautiful.

I don't own a digital camera my own self, so I borrowed one from a friend. It is the most awesome camera. I was sitting in my hotel room trying to get used to the different buttons and gizmos, and I wanted to check out the zoom on it. I was looking at a hotel across the highway from my hotel, and I could clearly see a man putting on his slacks probably to go to some business thing he was in town for. So, while I was standing in the pack waiting for a glimpse of the redhead, that other part of me wanted to go perch myself on the steps to the left of where we were waiting for her to come out and meet us. I would have gotten some great shots of her with this camera. But I had a blast regardless. I'm still reeling from the concert. SO. AMAZING!

Monday, April 18, 2005

Before this weekend, my mom and some others just knew that I was obsessed with Tori Amos. Well, the "meet and greet" Saturday confirmed to my mother, that my obsession is barely skin deep. Some people have made it their life's goal to seek out and learn the most minute bits of information that have ever been published about the siren. I love Tori, but learning that she has an endorsement deal with Evian water serves me no purpose. I'm definitely not going to start drinking it just because I know this. I don't like the taste of Evian. Ozarka is superior.

The "meet and greet"... For those of you not in the know, this is a fan-organised "event" where people who have hopes and dreams meeting their icon go to the venue where icon will be appearing, wait with other hopefuls, share Evian-endorsement-deal-type (EEDT) information, try to trump someone else's EEDT information, get a sunburn which causes nasty blisters on the nose and makes your face swell so you can see where the wrinkles will one day show up (a ravine right between my brows!), dehydrate, start showing signs of irritation when icon doesn't appear at a "reasonable" time (because icon doesn't have a million things to do before a show), and start crying the moment icon bursts out of the doors in all of icon's glory. (She is quite glorious, and no, I did not cry. I'm not a crier, but some people are. I'm just sayin'.)

The thing is, I have things to do that do not allow me to search the internet for useless Tori trivia. I felt sort of like an outsider for most of the time. There was another person there who drug her husband to this her first "meet and greet", and we had a lovely time chatting about all things not-Tori. For example, I had heard of music and art therapy before, but I had never known about dance therapy. This girl...Misty, if I remember correctly, wants to be a dance therapist. It was very interesting learning about this because I was thinking, "Those poor ballerinas and the therapy they need." She works with autistic children and dances with them to stimulate certain parts of the brain. She was my calm in the great Tori-fanatic storm.

There are a couple sites that I visit where I get what I call "pertinent Tori news", e.g., concert setlists, song lyrics (because what in THE hell is she singing sometimes?!), mp3's of live performances, tour schedules, Molly's opinion of a show... Molly? Molly Knight is the autrice of one of the sites I visit frequently. Her blog/site/whatever she wants to call it contains her personal musings about a lot of things, music being a leader of those things, and since we are in the middle of a Tori tour, most of her writings deal with Tori. I admit here and now that I am slightly jealous of Molly and her ability to go around the country to see almost the entire tour. I think that would be an amazing experience to have sometime. I think it's awesome that she has a pack of friends that loves to travel from show to show, and I bet they have the time of their lives. So, I knew that Molly was going to go to Dallas. I made a t-shirt, and it's pretty awesome, if I do say so myself. It says, "i want to be MOLLY KNIGHT when i grow up!" (photos pending) I wore it to the "meet and greet" hoping she'd show up, and SHE DID. I saw her posse walking up the sidewalk. When she passed, she didn't see me but the tallish fellow heading up the rear saw it. I watched him go over to Molly to tell her about it. I stepped out of my group to go meet her. It was hilarious. Molly, you know you're a rockstar when you have a fan wearing a t-shirt dedicated to you! You are gracious and beautiful. We chatted for a few moments, I bought some photos from a lovely friend of hers, who said my t-shirt was "F*****G AWESOME!", and Molly gave me a tube of Tori's used $20 lipgloss...a true relic used by the lover of my ears. I'm sure I will think of Molly fondly every time I clean out the drawer it gets put in.

NOW...the CONCERT... My ears are more in love than ever! The lady was ON FIRE last night. I had read people's reviews of previous shows in this tour saying that Tori's voice was stronger and more beautiful than it has ever been. I had only been to two other shows in my lifetime, but I was blown away by the sound coming out of that creature last night. She has never sounded so good on any of her albums. She sang a lot of my favorite songs, but I just exploded in ecstasy when she sang "Reach out, touch faith" and proceeded to play the greatest cover ever of Depeche Mode's "Personal Jesus". I was on fire inside. Another highlight was her song, "Winter". I've never counted this as one of my favorite songs. I usually skip it when it starts on the CD, but last night, she played a gorgeous, powerful, and emotionally-charged arrangement of the song. I was breathless in my seat as she played the icy notes at the top of the Bösendorfer's register. "Icicle" came out to play last night, too. It is a very favorite song of mine. If I were a crier, I would have bawled upon hearing the starting notes. I was so happy. A cute thing happened when she croaked the first note of "Crazy". She um...croaked. I guess her throat was dry. She laughed "Let's try that again," sipped some water (Evian), sang a scale, and started over. The audience cracked up.

I had great seats last night. Spit, drool, and tears were easily seen from where I was sitting. It seemed intimate to be that close and to see the different emotions passing through her: possessed, cheerful, sad, wild, rebellious, reverent...I adore her. I think she is an amazing performer. I'm so glad I went, and I'm so sad it's over. Now...when is the summer leg tour schedule going to be released? I've got trips to plan!

The only thing that sucks about Tori Weekend is that it ultimately ends. But it was so fun. I just rolled back into town, though, and I'd really like to get in a power nap before I have to go cut up sharks and cats.

Friday, April 15, 2005


It's finally here.

Wednesday, April 13, 2005

When I was in high school, I had my 3 best friends, and we were all glued to each other at the hip. We never did anything without each other. We are Tara, Amy, Jeremy, and yours truly. Some would say that we included Rebecca, Catherine, and a few others, but when it was just the four true members of "we", we just talked about how all of those others annoyed the living hell out of us. So they shan't be part of my story.

Of the four of us, Jeremy had an intelligence that was second nature to him. He never did homework, he never studied, he never read the books we were supposed to read...I don't think he ever thought about school once the bell rang at 3:15 in the afternoon. I know this because NONE of us did those things, and while our grades lingered in the B range, he got A's on every single test, paper, quiz, etc. He wanted to be a pharmacist, and we all knew that he'd do really well with that.

Let me describe Jeremy's physical appearance in high school. He was tall and not extremely lanky (but lanky, nonetheless), he had long, straight black hair that hit his chin (it was gorgeous), and he had the nastiest facial hair that grew in patches. We always tried to talk him into shaving it off, but he insisted on keeping his spots of facial hair.

After we graduated, Jeremy and I spent a lot of time in his pool. Then I went out to school and he got himself a girlfriend. Tara, Amy, and I DID. NOT. LIKE. HER! She was not pretty, and I'm not saying that because she wasn't one of us. She was dumb...she was not very bright. She had awful snaggleteeth. How she didn't tear his face to shreds every time they got close, I'll never know. With her came a pot-smoking habit, which resulted in his father taking away his brand new Mustang and ultimately dropping out of college. So he got a job at the favorite pizza place.

My mom was shopping in her not-usual grocery store last weekend, and she ran into Jeremy, whom I have not seen in almost 7 years. He eventually married that girl with the bad teeth, but he's working on wife number 2 now. He told my mom that this week he was moving over to be the manager of another pizza place in town. My mom told me that the only thing that has changed about him is that he has a beergut.

I was on my way to campus tonight to go study, and I was passing by the pizza place. I was curious, so I pulled in, and there he was standing behind the counter, gabbing with some other employees. He looks EXACTLY THE SAME except he's got a basketball where his tummy should be.

I called up Tara to tell her what I was witnessing, and minutes later I was pulling into her driveway. I coaxed her out in her pjs so we could go do a drive-by. He wasn't standing anywhere visible when we got there, so I pulled into the parking lot and parked in such a way that I could watch the goings-on through my rearview mirror. I felt like such a spy! All I needed was a meatball sub, some coffee, and a walkie-talkie to make the picture complete. Tara was getting into the spying, too. She was turned around in the seat with her face hiding behind the headrest. At one point she looked over at me and laughed, "How old are we?" He FINALLY came out of hiding so she could catch a glimpse of him. Our poor, poor Jeremy and the fetus he's carrying inside of him... He works at the pizza place, is going on his second wife, is a college drop-out, and has a beerbelly.

Kids, let this be a lesson to you: Pass on grass.

Tuesday, April 12, 2005

I had a very exciting meeting with my advisor today. He had never actually looked at the classes I had taken before, so he wasn't really aware of what I had under my belt, although he did know what my degree was in. He didn't really know my background or my accomplishments. So today, we spent a while talking about me (as much as I HATE talking about me) and looking over my transcript. He was very enthusiastic about everything. He said that if I keep the grades I've been making, even with the B's and C I have so far this semester (I do have a couple of A's in there and that C will become a B), I am one of the strongest medical school candidates he has advised. That is what he told me. He said that even if I got an "okay" score on the MCAT, I should have no problem getting into a school. That makes me feel awesome.

For the most part, I don't like kids. I love my friends' kids, but if you aren't a kid of one of my friends, then go away before I trip you because I'm already laughing at the idea of tripping you in my head and won't it be even funnier if I really did go through with it? It will be for me. I feel the same way around kids as kids do around new people: I want to run and hide behind mommy and not say a word. Or if I'm in a room full of kids (church, for example) I start feeling really antsy, violent, and not at all in a churchy kind of mood. PLEASE LET ME FEEL REVERENT FOR AT LEAST THESE THREE HOURS OF MY WEEK!!! These moments of yelling and screaming and childishness...isn't this the reason why we HAVE a MOTHER'S ROOM at church?

But my friends' kids can do no wrong because they love me because I love's a cycle, you know. I really get down on their level. I can be 1 and 2 and 5 years old. And we conspire and plot and laugh.'s so much fun. I think, "I really do like kids. I want to have a whole slew of them because this is so much fun." I'm on kiddie crack (the crack that is a natural hormone boost when playing around kids you like) when I'm having these thoughts. And like all highs, this one, too, ends at some point.

When I have hit bottom is usually the time that "Super Nanny" comes on. I get sucked into watching it because I'm usually chatting to my mom when it comes on, and she likes to watch it. So here I am. Watching the reason why there should never ever be any children on this planet. They SCREAM, and they KICK, and they SPIT! Oh my badness, the SPITTING these bratty children do! They CURSE, and they LIE, and they MANIPULATE! It is one of the most horrifying shows to watch for someone who already has kiddophobia. Last night after that show ended, I opened up the phonebook and found the doctor who will one day perform my hysterectomy.

My mom keeps telling me that I have to get married so I can have her grandchildren. That's when I have to grab her by the hand, lead her into the livingroom, sit down next to her, and switch on "Super Nanny", my contraceptive.

Sunday, April 03, 2005

Monkey Business 1: In the Jungle

Two Springs ago, I went with a study abroad program to Senegal (in West Africa). We went out to the hot, eastern part of the country for almost two weeks, and the first place we stayed at while out there was guarded by monkeys. In the morning when we left our huts, there would be a baboon sitting outside our door making sure nobody messed with us. I pity the fool who tried to pull shenanigans while a baboon was outside our door! When we ate breakfast, we paid the monkeys in bread or fruit or whatever the monkeys could run, hop, and grab while our backs were turned. To the layperson, it looked like they were stealing from us, but we totally meant for them to have that bread.

One night most of us had decided we had had enough of no air-conditioning in a 120 degree place. The following morning, we would pack up and head to what I call an oasis in the middle of God-forsaken nothing. A few of us got up early because the real entertainment while staying at the place with no air-conditioning was our guard-monkeys. A couple of friends and I went to sit up by the pool (swamp in a basin) to watch the monkeys run around. I was filming. I was watching these two monkeys playing a game of tag, I thought it was cute, and I stayed on them. Seconds later, the boy monkey showed us what it meant to tag the girl monkey. He tagged her alright, and I have it on camera. If I had some cool editing program, I would set the footage to a techno beat because it was mechanical and hard and funny. We were laughing so hard, and the other girl there with us told me that I should stop filming. NO WAY! I was making my foray into monkey porn right there! That video got passed around the bus quite a bit during our trip to the oasis. Sickos!

Monkey Business Take 2: In the Zoo

I went to the zoo today with friends. It had been well over a decade since I had visited our LOVELY zoo. I admit now that there have been many improvements to our zoo since the last time I visited. Our pink flamingos are actually PINK!

The monkey part is always my favorite part of any zoo. They do funny things and make funny sounds. So, there was an area with two smaller monkeys, and one was spitting in his hand and rubbing it on the tree. I don't know what this does, but I wanted him to stop doing it. I mean, how childish is that, spitting on your hand and rubbing it on the tree? So I just stared at him. When he noticed that I was staring at him, I started rocking from side to side. He started bearing his teeth. Then he went down and whispered something to his pal, as if I would understand him if he spoke in haut voix. Both of them came over to the cage as close as they could get to me and again showed me their teeth. I don't know if they were hissing or anything. I imagine they were. (There was also glass and a walkway between me and the cage.) But one was getting so worked up that he started to um..."help himself" while I was staring at him. Yes, he was an exhibitionist. I called my friends over because they were still staring at a huge python. They were laughing, and I was getting the monkeys more aggravated. My friends finally had to force me to leave because there was a big crowd of kids making their way toward these monkeys. Apparently, that kind of behavior isn't suitable for children.

So, I think I'm now, like, a monkey whore or something. I don't know what it would be called. Anyway, I think monkeys are all sex-crazed perverts.