Just the way they like it

In case anyone missed it, it snowed yesterday. There was minimal snow on the ground by the time my 8:30 class commenced, so I wasn't expecting class to be cancelled. I stared out the window throughout class and noticed that it was building up. Very few people were walking by the window, no one was really coming in and out of the parking lot. I smiled, classes must be cancelled, snow day today! No, really the reason nothing was happening was that by that point it was 9:00 and no self respecting college student does anything before 10:00 and even then it's usually by force. After I got out of class at 10:00 I walked up to the campus center to find that the BMC world was alive with movement, classes were clearly still on. Oh well. I did some last minute homework at the computer center before catching the bus to Haverford for my second class of the day. At the Ford I slipped my way down to my class, satisfied that the increasingly heavy snow would definitely cancel my Penn class that night. After class I skiddaddled (is there a proper spelling for that word? or can you just make it up as you go?) over to the Blue Bus to get back to BMC in order to meet with some people about a presentation. I was busy as a bee. All throughout my meeting I kept checking my e-mail for updates about the class. Still not cancelled, still not cancelled. I logged into Penns student portal or whatnot and checked if it had been cancelled, no word. I tried and tried to log into my Penn e-mail but every combination of password I usually use didn't work. Keep logging into BMC e-mail, activities listserve, come to the Vagina Monologues, stuff like that, but no e-mail canceling class. It gets to the point where I have to leave for my train. I make myself pretty and rush off through the snow to the station. Hop on the train and bitterly make my way into the city. Once there I brave the snow and trek the eight blocks up to Penn. Everyone is making a mad dash to the train station while I head the other way. I get looks of "you're crazy" "turn back now" as dozens of people in scrubs run by me. Side note, are scrubs warm? I get the impression that they are thin and incredibly chilly, yet all of the doctors weren't wearing sweatpants over them or anything, just their scrubs. I finally make my way to Penn and barrel into Au Bon Pain for some soup. I am cold and hungry and I want some soup. They're out of everything except Rice, Bean and Sausage soup, or as I like to call it "throw some stuff in a pot" soup. You know what? It was delicious. I meet Ari over at our building and wait around until it's time for class. At 5:30 we head into our classroom and find that it's empty. A sinking feeling hits me. We both sit down, neither of us saying what we both know is happening. Another girl joins us, she hadn't checked her e-mail all day so she doesn't know if there was a class is cancelled e-mail or not. Another boy joins us, he just registered for the class yesterday so the prof doesn't have his e-mail yet. Another boy joins us, he is without a doubt an idiot so we don't trust him for anything. Ari finally broaches the subject.....do you think class was cancelled? The three whip out Blackberries and frantically search through their e-mail. Another guy goes to the podium computer and frantically searches his e-mail. Another guy comes in and does an "is class cancelled?" jig like thing. Finally a text message comes through on someones phone from a friend that class has in fact been cancelled. Much rejoicing from the Penn kids, lots of cursing from me and Ari. We bundle up and head back to the streets. By this point it's dark and instead of snowing is wintery mixing. It is disgusting out. The streets are slush filled, the wind is whipping ice into our faces, and we have eight blocks to walk. I am very angry. We curse the Bryn Mawr registrar for not passing on the e-mail like she is apparently supposed to (I did not know this, but Ari claims it's true). We get to the station to find that the next train is the Bryn Mawr express, which is a minor win for the day. We and every other snow and ice soaked business executive get on that and zip up to the Mawr. We step outside and it's like a whole new world. Whereas Philly had been icy, wet and grey, Bryn Mawr has a good five inches of fluffy, white, untouched snow. It looks almost like a painting. We're a bit taken aback. We trek through the snow back to school, passing the Baldwin School along the way. "ah, look at Baldwin" Ari muses, "Covered in a blanket of white...just the way they like it". burn.

I got back to my room and fired off a few changes to my presentation to the girl that's putting it all together. In my inbox was a frantic e-mail from the registrar sent just minutes after I left for the train "Ari and Marianna, your Penn class has been cancelled, I hope I'm not too late!". Points for effort. I guess I need to get myself a Blackberry. I then went to take a nap, or just to lie down. It was about 7:00 at this point. Next thing I know it's 2:00 in the morning and I'm wide awake. I look outside, the snow as stopped but there is at least seven inches of snow on the ground, streets included. Maybe classes will be cancelled tomorrow, I ponder. I get back to sleep around 4:00 and sleep until 8:00. I wake up and notice I haven't heard the Blue Bus at all. No one's walking down the halls. Cars aren't outside. Holy Crap! I exclaim! Class has been cancelled! I log into my e-mail to find that telltale message from Head of Public Safety Mike Hill "classes ARE in session today. Please use caution". Damn you, Mike Hill, you win again.

EDIT: At least some people (er...dogs) enjoyed the snow

Sofa Sundays

I usually have a rule regarding my visits home during a semester. Ideally, I make it until the mid-semester break before I start randomly coming home, I rarely make it. I have been back at school for two weeks...I have randomly come home twice. Oh well, it was a good try. Originally I was going to stay at school for the Super Bowl. I assumed that as a college kid I would be spending the day at the bar, imbibing and having a grand old time. After the Eagles were eliminated, my excitement for the Super Bowl quickly faded to almost nothing. Earlier this week a friend asked if we had anything planned. One of us was going home, two of us were working, the rest couldn't care less. Screw this, I decided, I'm going home. Every Sunday of the playoffs I spent on the sofa with my mom in her recliner, fire blazing, dog on my lap, generally enjoying life. It only seemed fitting that I finish the season out on my sofa. After five minutes with my family I realized that they are hilarious and needed to be documented. So without their consent I recorded our entire afternoon/evening and present it to you as a play, 

"The Family That Watches Together, Never Sees Their Daughter Leave Home Even After College....Together"

3:00-Time for pregame show. I come downstairs to find mom chuckling along to America's Sweethearts. Hey, I'm pro anything John Cusack. We watch this instead.

4:00-Movie ends. Time for football? Or maybe Ice Princess, starring Joan Cusack. Mom marvels at the fact that every movie on today includes a Cusack. I'm confused that she was expecting to find a Sunday afternoon movie that DIDN'T include a Cusack.

4:10-Alright, time for some football. 

4:20-Mom and I discuss the possible Springsteen line up, really the only thing we're interested in during this game. We Google "betting websites" (hello viruses) to see what the most popular lineup is. We're hoping for Playlist E, Born to Run, Dancing in the Dark, Radio Nowhere and The Rising. Money seem to be favoring Playlist D, Born in the USA, Thunder Road, Rosalita and My Lucky Day. There is NO way this is going to be the lineup as Born to Run isn't on it and Rosalita is 500 minutes long. I should mention that I have no clue how betting works, so this might not be favored at all.

4:35-The pregame show turns to a feature on David Tyree, who caught the pass that doomed the Patriots last year. Mom insists we turn the channel. We watch Ice Princess instead.

4:42-I turn back to the pregame show just in time to see Eli Manning cock his arm back and throw a pass over the heads of Patriot defenders. Mom screams. Back to Ice Princess

4:40-6:00-Eating, lots of eating. I just DEVOURED a bowl of Sun Chips. 

6:10ish-Faith Hills version of America the Beautiful reduced Ben Rothlisberger to tears, this doesn't bode well. J Huds National Anthem was incredible. 

6:46-We just found out that Kurt Warner went to University of Northern Iowa, which elicited a "Northern Iowa?!?!?!?!" from all three people at this party. OMP wants to know why North Iowa deserved a university over South Iowa. I don't want to start rumors, but I think OMP is against Iowa as a state. Statist. 

6:53-Mom and I are ranking commercials. Mom has previewed some of the commercials on the internet. We just had an intense fight about whether or not that is ok. I claim she now has a base on which to judge other commercials off of whereas I have to judge as we go. 

7:02-

Me: I give it a 6 

Mom: I give it a four! Do you want to wager, Peter? Pick a number from 1 to...

OMP: No 

Mom: 10? 

OMP: No

7:07-I pull a Bryn Mawr and give a commercial a 1 based off of the fact that is was just footage of a woman showering. Sometimes I am a credit to my gender.

7:10-Mom is biased towards Budwiser clydesdale commercials. Its amazing how they ALWAYS get 10s.....

7:12-I should mention that Mom and I are rooting for Pittsburgh, OMP appears to be rooting for Arizona just to spite us.

7:14-"BEST CLYDESDALE COMMERCIAL EVER! 10+!" So much corruption in the commercial ranking system.

7:33-Dinner is gradually appearing on the coffee table. I clearly haven't eaten enough today. 

7:52-Coolest play ever! COOLEST EFFING PLAY EVER! 100 yard interception return FOR A TOUCHDOWN! A-MAZ-ING.

7:57-

Mom: "Oh! Here we go! 3-D! 3-D!" 

Me: Mom....we...don't have 3-D glasses. 

Mom: oh...

7:59-Something about Matt Light in a leotard. Mom gives it a 10 for "sheer guts" 

8:01-Halftime score: Steelers 17, Cards 7.....Bruce? Bruuuuuuuuuce? Bruuuuuuuuuucccccceeeee.....

8:03-Less Matt Millen, more Bruuuuuuuuuucccccccceeeeee

8:06-BRUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCCCCCCCCCCCCCEEEEE!!!!!!!!! 

OMP, who absolutely cannot stand Springsteen, removes himself from the room.

8:10-TRAMPS LIKE US! BABY WE WERE BOOOOORRRRRRRNNNNN TO RUNNNN

8:20-WOW! AWESOME. Mom and I scream MORE! MORE! MORE! Upstairs OMP finishes off a bottle of vodka hoping to dull the pain of living with us*. Says Mom: "It's like a woman that leads a man on then leaves him hanging at the last second" silence fills the room. OMP goes in search of some pills to chase the vodka with*. I begin to question whether or not I should return to school for my 10 am class tomorrow or if I should stay home for when Springsteen tickets go on sale at 10am. I've never denied that I am an advertisers dream. A monkey could sell me a broken microwave, I'm that easily convinced.

*-Lies

EDIT (2/3): OMP did reappear to coin the performance Bruceus Interruptus. I would personally like to term it "Bruce Balling". That is all.

8:33-Brodie "burys" his chewy under my moms chair and walks away. OMP grabs it so that Finn doesn't find it, leading to a dog fight of epic proportions. Brodie notices this shennanigan and is less than pleased. B gets his chewy back and sits down with it hanging out of his mouth like a cigarette. He's a real James Dean. 

8:37-Each of us heard a different piece of that last commercial. By sharing our different pieces of information we piece it together that Dennys is serving a free grand slam on either Tuesday or Friday of this week. ADHD riddled family fun.

8:41-This Clydesdale ad is full of holes. 

1. The horse has a "Scottish" accent, but they're clearly in Ireland. 

2. The horse still has an accent even though he is a third generation American. I've taken NUMEROUS (2, maybe even 3) classes on this subject, and I know that the accent should be gone by now. 

3. The relative immigrated in the late 19th, early 20th century, yet it claims three generations. A generation in the horse world is, what, 5 or 6 years? So three generations would have the great grandfather emigrating over in, assuming the current horse is 6, the late 1970s/early 1980s. FULL OF HOLES. I can't believe I just dissected that in detail.

9:13-OMP reemerges to give us crucial news that he is putting a new calculator into circulation. He asks that we kindly not throw it away as it looks identical to the last calculator, which I can only assume stopped working. Football game is apparently still going on.

9:18-We decline to rank Cash4Golds commercial as the thought of Ed McMahon hawking Cash4Gold was deemed "sad". 

9:22-"If your tv doesn't say "Vizio" then you probably paid too much!" 

OMP: "Well we didn't pay anything for this tv....so no".

I count at least 10 major features in this room that we got for free, including all furniture save for the sofa. Freeloading Family Fun. 

9:47-OH....MY...GOD.....The Cardinals...are....in....the lead? I can't handle this.

10:01-WHOAAAAAAAAA. Who knew this would turn into one of the best Super Bowls ever......

10:09-PITTSBURGH WINS! Excellent, excellent game. I did not expect to enjoy this game, but ended up enjoying it immensely.

Hopefully I will be on the PA Turnpike tomorrow before the 'rents discover this entry. 

Easiest Job in the World

It's no lie that I live the good life. While it may be "stressful" at times, I've managed to pretty much skirt through life with minimal manual labor or non-scholastic work on my part. I'm talking, of course, about my ability to only get jobs that are slightly more advanced than what a monkey can be expected to do. In my work career, the hardest job I've ever had would probably be the hellish summer I spent as a camp counselor. Really that was more taxing on my will to live than anything. Ever have a secret desire to become a teenage mother? Get a job as a camp counselor for overprivileged six year olds, it will keep you celibate for years. Other than wanting to stab my eyeballs with rusty nails, all I had to do was craft, sit by a pool and play Where in the World is Carmen Sandiago for hours. Occasionally I would fear for my job future when a kid, who clearly watched too much television, would threaten to tell their mother I hit them if I didn't let them have an extra ice cream at snack time, but really minimal effort involved in that job.

Once I got to Bryn Mawr the work study scene emerged as quite possibly the biggest steal in the world. In exchange for getting up an hour early twice a week and chopping cucumbers, I received a weekly paycheck that was exactly the amount I needed in order to have a bit of fun that weekend. If we were feeling particularly risky and were going to have more than just a little bit of fun, I could easily throw in an extra hour pouring wine for drunk faculty, padding my wallet a bit more. 

After I grew bored with chopping cucumbers I added an additional side job running after soccer balls to my work schedule. This was an even bigger steal, all I had to do was stand still for 5-10 minutes at a time, broken up by brief periods of light jogging. Exercise, sun, and entertainment, all while being paid.

Even my summer job at CES, while time consuming, really involves nothing more than the ability to count and common sense. Count keys, sort keys, set up table, break down table, answer phone, take message, don't ask questions when given a task that sounds illegal. Simple. 

I have completely outdone myself this semester in terms of jobs that make you question your worth as a human. I run the CD player for Bryn Mawr basketball games. 

I started the season running the scoreboard, a surprisingly stressful task. Basketball games are by nature very fast paced, any hesitation or stoppage of the clock results in bad things, such as babies being killed, or at least that's what people made it seem like. I like to think I did a fairly good job running the scoreboard, to my knowledge no babies died as a result of my failures. When I showed up to the following game, however, I was informed that I had been moved over to "music". "What does that involve" I asked my boss. He shrugged and said "Press play when the time out starts, press stop before the time out ends". Wow. Sounded difficult, but I think I could do it. I moved to the end of the table (being ostracized from the side that had people actually relevant to the game, major blow to my ego) and became acquainted with Phil, the 70-something year old man that does the play by play for the 5 fans that come to the games. Phil had a long list of instructions of what songs he wanted played at what point. National anthem before introductions, Jock Jams track 1 (Let's get ready to rummmmmmmbllllllleeeeeee!) after introductions, then tracks 4, 11, 17, 18, 20 and 24 rotating through timeouts as needed. Alright, I could do that. Long story short, I couldn't. I misread the 18 as a 16 and played that instead. Phil was startled and shouted "This isn't 18!" as the YMCA blasted through the gym. I meanwhile was throwing my arms up above my head into a Y shape and was shocked to learn that I had messed up what is possibly the easiest job in the world. Phil thought for a moment, looked around the gym to see people twisting their arms into various shapes (none of which looked like M, C or As) and decided "alright, alright, I think we're ok, they seem to be enjoying this one". I decided the YMCA would be my secret weapon, every time I wanted a power struggle I would switch on track number 16 and go wild. I was ready to whip it out again at the end of the half when Phil caught me and said 'NO NO NO! Number 20....I like 20" So instead of throwing up a Y I was instead bopping along to "nuh nuh nuh nuhhhhhh nuhnuh HEY nuh nuh nuh nuh nuh nuh". Oh well, next time.

The next game brought what has become a tradition, the getting me worked up into thinking that I might be given a job of consequence before banishing me to the cd player at the last minute. My friend Georgia hadn't shown up 10 minutes before the game and people became concerned that we wouldn't have anyone taping the game for future reference (or whatever reason you tape a game). I was told to run across the court (in my muddy boots, which I was later chastised for) and get a crash course in videography. Just as I climbed up the ladder and took control Georgia came running in, bruised from an unfortunate encounter with a patch of ice but nonetheless ready to video tape the game. I was sent back over to the CD player to began another epic power struggle over when to play the YMCA.

Today was a showdown for the ages between the 1-16 Bryn Mawr Owls and the 1-10 Trinity (D.C) Tigers. I raced over from my cousins baby shower, worried that I was going to be late. When I arrived at the gym 10 minutes late I was disturbed to see that I was the only one there. Damn you all. People gradually arrived and sat down at their posts. With 3 mintues to go we had no one keeping the book. The very important job of keeping the official record of fouls, points and time outs. This was my chance, I was called up to the big leagues. My boss sat me down and explained the book and it's responsibilities in detail. I was ready. I was going to rock this job and finally prove my worth to the table. At the last minute the bookkeeper came racing in and my boss turned to me and said "Well, looks like you're back on music!" and smiled a cocky smile. I shouldn't be angry, they really don't need me, I should be happy that he's willing to pay me to do so, and don't get me wrong, I love getting paid for doing nothing, but I had pumped up my self worth and had it deflated all within a minute. I slid down the table and nodded cordially at Phil. Let's go! National Athlem, introductions, "Let's get ready to rummmmmbllllllllleeeee!!!!! nuh nuh nuh nuhnuhnuh NUH NUH NUH NUH NU *abrupt stop, time for the game to begin*". First time out, I decide to go with track 20 rather than track 4, riiiskkkky. Phil tosses me a warning glance, he has no time for tom foolery. During the game I casually mention to Phil that I can burn some CDs for the next game, Phil shakes his head and tells me that's not necessary. Really? REALLY? Nothing really epic happened during the game, but I nearly lost my control on reality when during one of the final time-outs of the second half Phil leans over and says "Play the YMCA....that always gets 'em going" That's a three point field goal for Marianna right there.

Judging people I don't know

As I mentioned earlier in this blog, I take a class at Penn once a week. I've done this a couple times before and have enjoyed it. Going into the city once a week (although I say I go to school in Philadelphia, I actually go to school in "fake Philadelphia" as Chiz calls it) gets me off campus, forces me to plan ahead and be organized and allows me to meet people who are different than me. I mean different, very different. The kids in my Penn classes are NOTHING like the kids you meet in the Bi-Co. I have to take time before getting on the train to the city to plan out what I am going to wear. I can't wear sweats, nothing stamped with the word "Princeton" (which rules out half my wardrobe) everything down to my shoes has to look respectable. I'm never going to get to the level of fashionable that most of the people are in my classes, but I can at least look respectable. Even pulling my hair up into a ponytail gets a disapproving look sometimes. As a result, no matter how hard I try I always end up looking like a crazy cat lady when I walk into the class room. This week I sat across from 5 guys who each dressed in a completely different style, each one of them looking like a tool. While I didn't know it, I was in the early stages of bronchitis at this point and was totally unable to focus on anything other than the fact that I was staring at five of the biggest tools ever. So I of course wrote down everything I could about them and made up what I believe to be their backstories. Other than their wardrobes, none of this information is fact. Here we go.

Guy # 1

Style: European

Clothes: Scarf, shiny black ankle boots (what?) Tight pants, vintage jacket

Hair: Carefully gelled into a slight faux hawk

What I think his name is: Mark

Possible alternative for names: Evan

Where is he from: New York

Level of toolishness: Clothes and personal grooming were very tooly. My buddy Ari thought he was incredibly attractive, I disagree. He didn't say anything stupid during class, however, so we'll put him down as just a tool.

Guy #2

Style: Grunge, but stylishly grunge

Clothes: T-shirt with a picture of some famous musicians mug shot. I could see who, but I've seen the t-shirt around. Black zip-up sweatshirt, khaki pants that were surprisingly not ripped or torn. Black sneakers with white socks (bad choice)

Hair: Under a baseball hat

What I think his name is: Adam

Possible alternatives for name: Dan

Where is he from: Lower to Middle Bucks County, PA 

Level of toolishness: Least toolish of the five. He made me in my sweatshirt (it was cold!) look good. Spent all of class with a smirk on his face. Minor tool

Guy #3

Style: Caroline's ideal man (I get one dig at Caroline per every 4 entries)

Clothes: Black blazer, faintly blue collared shirt, finely pressed khakis, loafers, pink tie

Hair: Short, perfectly styled. Strangely flat on top

What I think his name is: Michael (not Mike)

Possible alternatives for name: Alex

Where is he from: New York City suburbs, most likely Westchester County, possibly Connecticut

Level of toolishness: Massive tool. He wore a blazer and tie to class. His shoes were polished. He didn't speak at all during class but instead snickered to his buddy (see Guy #4). Obviously Wharton. 

Guy #4

Style: Preppy

Clothes: Yellow oxford shirt under a black fleece North Face pullover. Khaki pants, sneakers with no socks (there was an ice storm going on outside, bad decision)

Hair: A bit tussled, most likely grown out after a haircut at the beginning of winter break

What I think his name is: Andrew

Possible alternatives for name: Kevin

Where is he from: Massachusetts, probably Newton. Also perhaps from Virginia, Arlington area. Also, it just hit me, maybe Maine.

Level of toolishness: I was going to put him at massive tool, because he was friends with our other massive tool, but he won my heart when he was answering questions. As I mentioned in a previous blog entry our professor teaches by asking open ended questions that no one knows the answer to. Guy #4 was so flustered by this that he began shouting out random answers just to end the awkward silence. It led to such exchanges as:

Professor: So when you build a town around a company the first thing you'll need is a......

Guy #4: Fire truck!

So I'm downgrading him to tool. I will also spend the semester trying to woo him. 

Guy #5

Style: Dorky cute (I despise those who use the dorky cute as a fashion sense. Unless you are a clueless dork, it doesn't work! If you are fully aware that you look like a dork, then you are a dork)

Clothes: Collared grey knit longsleeve, jeans that were slightly flared at the bottom, glasses, new sneakers with yellow laces

Hair: shaggy, brown and curly

What I think his name is: Jeff

Possible alternatives for name: Charlie

Where is he from: I'm going with St Louis just because I have no clue and the random people are always from the midwest. 

Level of toolishness: As a person, he's only a minor tool. But he kept butting in to add his own two cents on everything which bumped him up to a big tool

I had more to say on all of these guys, but I was unable to write it all down when I got back from class because I was so sick. I picked a good week to get sick, our entire campus is completely covered in ice. So I'm not going anywhere, but it's all good because if I did go anywhere I would slip and die. Merion Green, a nice lawn in the middle of campus that everyone likes to hang out on when it's warm, is completely covered in snow that is then covered in two inches of ice. As it is on a bit of an incline, it is possible to stand at the top of it and with a bit of momentum slide your way to the science center and/or gym. That could be a fun experiment if I wasn't so afraid of pain.

Give me a child until he is seven, and I will give you a man

10:03-Worst day ever. Not sure how long I'll last here. I have bronchitis and quite frankly feel like death. Also, the soda machine just stole my money...technically it was Megan's money so I'm not as upset as I would otherwise be. I'll be frank, however, this is FAR from my best work.

10:06-Not sure what we're watching. Megan dropped the ball and didn't get Darkon, so now she has to wear a dunce cap and make an apology. Nicky brought backups, it appears we're watching the 7up series. The 7Up series follows a bunch of British youngsters from the age of 7 in 1964 through present day. 

10:10-Drew is missing. Ari is here but Drew is not. Ari goes up to her room because she is concerned that he might be "touching her stuff" which apparently is "against the rules"

10:11-Nicky makes the speech. She makes fun of Megan using an incredibly obscene phrase. Wow. Unexpected. WHOA! Surprise twist, Nicky dropped the ball and had her Netflix sent to her house rather than her house. She claims it's Netflix's fault.

10:13-Megan's apology takes the form of an interview as Paige berates her, questioning her allegiance to the club

10:14-"Enter the struggling world of the seven year old"

10:15-Already have a favorite, he wears a scarf and speaks ridiculously proper. He would judge me for saying "ridiculously proper"

10:17-All of the kids are horrible at time management. They're all late for school

10:21-Suzie has a 13 year old boyfriend. Holy moly. I don't really know how to handle this news

10:22-hahahaha, they're beating the crap out of each other

10:24-Capturing the Friedmans has left us all a little sensitive to comments about the children

10:29-Nicky tries to bring up the fact that she didn't get to go outside during school again. 

10:31-There is one kid who serves as his house captain. He's a jackass, but I want to be him. He leads exercises and the band....and he's 7. LOVE him

10:34-Ths one kid's parents are missionaries and he claims to have girlfriends all over the world

10:36-British children are born 40 years old

10:44-Ah, racism. Always enjoyable....

10:52-Tony is nicknamed "monkey". I swear to God he can climb anything!

10:53-They took all of the kids to the park. Everyone played together, except for the kids they found in an orphanage. They set to work building a house out of scrap wood on the edges of the park. Wow. Sad. 

10:53-End of 7 Up.

10:54: Begin 7+7

10:55-"Give me a child until they are 7 and I will give you a man"-We have heard that phrase at least 30 times. OUCH. This is the awkward stage

10:56-Oh this is epic. Wow, British teenagers are NOT attractive

11:02-Heh, one of them ended up in Austrailia.

11:09-HOLY CRAP! A dog is TEARING apart a rabbit in the back of this interview. 

11:11-Nicholas has the same glasses as Paige. He amuses himself by throwing rocks at rapid speed. 

11:20-Suzy refuses to look at the camera. It's driving me insane

11:24-These people grew up boring

11:25-The soda machine just took peoples money. I would have stopped them, but I'm still bitter

11:32-They're discussing their weekly allowances. Nicky is confused by British money

11:36-I feel terrible. ughhhhhhhhhhhhh, sickkkkkkk

11:40-seriously, boring, boring, boring 14 year olds

11:44-"Give me a child until he is 7, and I will give you a man"

11:50-The gang continues on to the third one. I call it a night and head to bed. 

Birthday Ride Exravaganza

*Editors Note: There are two entries today. I suggest you read the one below this first*

The Bogucki family has a ton of traditions. Setting a place for the Christ Child at the Christmas Eve dinner table, singing the Jack-O-Lantern song immediately after lighting our Halloween Jack-O-Lanterns, etc. The most honored tradition, however, is Mom's birthday ride. Every year, usually Superbowl Sunday, Mom picks a location that she would like for us all to go to. The birthday ride has strict and specific rules that are not to be broken. They are as follow.

1) Location must be out of state

2) Highways may be used to exit the state however once out of said state only backroads may be taken

3) Lunch will be in the form of an in-the-car picnic

4) Dinner must be something local or representative of the culture that we are visiting

5) Roads must twist and turn so as to make Marianna as nauseous as possible

Rule number 5 is unspoken, but I know its there. Past locations have included the Crayola Factory, West Point (I was 8, my parents threatened to leave me there...scarring), the Hopewell Iron Furnace, the Glassboro Glass Works (blatent disregard for rule number 1 on this one) and the Epharta Cloister (something about a cult) among other fabulous spots. We moved the birthday ride up to a Saturday this year for various reasons that I can't remember. Mom announced Lewes, DE as our destination and all was well. At 1 am this morning I opened my e-mail to find an urgent message that our location had changed and we would now be going to Strasborg, PA, to the Railroad Museum. Good choice, good choice. 

If you read the entry below this first, you'll see that waking up this morning was a bit difficult. I was up early, though, as I had to try and get Red Sox tickets which were going on sale at exactly 10. I pulled myself out of bed and made my way to my desk. I logged onto the Red Sox website, plugged in my iPod and spent a glorious hour just staring at my computer screen in a complete trance. I never made it out of the "virtual waiting room" and was unable to procure tickets. After failing at this task, I made my way downstairs as my parents had arrived and hopped in the car to begin our adventure. I now present a photo essay, 

"Birthday Ride: Views from the Backseat"

Let's start this off by looking at a map. We're off to a good start. I'm trying to prolong the inevitable plugging in of the GPS system as long as I can. I hate that thing so, so much.
A stop at the Chester County Visitors Center turns into our in the car picnic. Note that the GPS system has been put in place. 
Delicious sandwich if I do say so myself
Please.Turn.In.One.Point.Four.Miles. 
BLATANT DISREGARD OF RULE NUMBER TWO! 
That's better, this fits both rule number 2 and rule number 5
Well that's something you don't see in the Philadelphia Metropolitan Area!
Farm. In case you can't tell
The Strasborg Train Museum
OMP paced up and down between the museum and the car a couple times. Mom and I couldn't figure out what he was doing, I can only assume he was getting himself pumped for what would be the most epic adventure of his life.
This mannequin scared the hell out of me and actually caused me to duck and cover when I saw him.
OMP never refuses a good lecture opportunity. 
This looks like it would be nice, heated and cozy. It was two hours of bone chilling cold in there.
Mom drives model trains. The two nerdy men running this exhibit thought she was the coolest thing ever. One of them tried to fight my dad for her love. No lie, they got into a one upping contest about who owns more model trains. It was adorable. 
SEPTA, take note. I want velvet seats
If you thought it was cold INSIDE the museum....well outside was even colder. I guess that's not surprising, really that's to be expected.
It was one of the most beautiful days I've seen in awhile
I like to think that this photo is symbolic of my track to the future. 
BLATANT DISREGARD OF RULE NUMBER 2! AGAIN! You're on thin ice, OMP. Better study up on those rules for next year
And the sun sets on another Bogucki Birthday Ride

I'll Show You the Youtube Videos-an epic entry of an epic night

There are a lot of disturbing lifestyle changes that come with being a Bryn Mawr student. A constant sense that someone is keeping secrets from you, a constant fear that you are breaking the honor code, a complete disregard for your personal hygiene and appearance...it's no secret, Bryn Mawr messes with your head, big time. Perhaps the most disturbing is the strange phenomenon of forgetting all of the pain and suffering of the past semester over winter break. One month ago I was in agony. Tired, completely unmotivated, living in constant fear of being a failure. At least I think I was, I can't remember. I have no recollection of my emotions one month ago, I know that it wasn't a good time, but it feels like it never happened. This happens at the beginning of EVERY semester. As a result, I forget that, in the words of Nicky, college is hard. This week hit me like a ton of bricks and keeping my eyes open has been a challenge worthy of an Olympic medal. It didn't help that I took my two days off, yesterday and today, and filled them to the brim with activities. Here's how that went down.

I'm not exactly responsible when it comes to making doctors appointments. I was supposed to make a bunch of them for over break but never really got around to doing so. By the time I did they were all booked up so I had to go home yesterday to attend to those matters. The drive home was fairly tame. A lot of trucks on the road but otherwise normal.

I got to Princeton a bit early so I got a bottle of water and sat in the grocery store parking lot to pass the time. I started a game where I counted how many  of cars that went by had the giant orange circle of doom/Princeton University parking pass on them. I stopped that game pretty quickly, there was no real point when each car had one, I was just counting cars and when you think about it that's really a sketchy thing to do...sit in a parking lot and count cars. Doctors appointment went fine, I got to read Parents Magazine, my absolute favorite magazine in the world. Stopped by the office afterwards to get money for my services, and to tell some of my stories that no one else will listen to. Came home for lunch with my mother and some quality dog time. 

Went back into Princeton for another doctors appointment. The fire alarm went off in the middle of it and the intercom recording kept shouting "code red, code red, code red". No one seemed alarmed, however, so I guess we were fine? Stopped by OMPs office to say hi, I think I frightened him a bit. I would be worried too if my daughter, who was supposed to be in another state, suddenly showed up in my office. Chatted with him for awhile, tried out a few of my stories on him as well. He casually mentioned that I should probably be getting back to Bryn Mawr, I took the hint and left (jusssst kidding).

I had big plans to stop for everything cheap that I loved in New Jersey, gas, beer and iced coffee. Numerous accidents and road work got in my way however, and I had to settle for just gas. It was getting to be rush hour time and I had to get back to Bryn Mawr for a friends birthday. I get onto Route 1 just as they're closing up the road work on the bridge. Basically, Route 1 stops dead. Greaaaat. I hate that road so, so much. After 20 minutes of hell stuck it what is quite possible the worst designed construction project ever I was able to get into Pennsylvania (woo?) and make my way to the turnpike. By this point people are getting out of work and are cranky. I'm worrying about making my friend's birthday dinner so each mile seems longer and longer. I get to Bryn Mawr at 5:03. I throw my car into a parking lot that I'm not supposed to park in and race up to Sushi Land. Luckily, I am the Michael Phelps of speed walking and I catch up to my friends at the train station. 

We get to Sushi Land and it's packed. Our friend is waitressing and she tells us we won't be able to get a seat for at least a half hour if not more. Usually we'd wait, but tonight we were going to see Amy Sedaris at Haverford and had to be able to get over there by 7:30. Our other friends had already bought wine so we needed to find ourselves another BYOB to eat. We went up the street to Vietnamese. GREAT food at this restaurant, but horrific service. I'm pretty sure the same guy is the waiter, cook and custodian. We waited for about 5 minutes but no one even appeared, we went looking for someone but no one was there. We couldn't put up with this tomfoolery and went back down the street to the Mediterranean Grill. The place was packed, and by packed I mean completely empty. Good sign or no...we couldn't tell. It ended up being a good sign as the food was fantastic. 

As time was growing closer to 7 we decided to split into groups, half the group would drive to the Ford and save seats while the other half would walk. Originally I was in the walk group, but I managed to finagle my way into the drive group, win. We thought we were going to be early but a bunch of people had through ahead of us and were already there. We still managed to get good seats in the third row. Too bad the show sucked. 

The idea was that two Haverford students would interview Amy Sedaris and we would all have a good time. Amy seemed ready and willing to be funny and have a good time but the two students were decidedly anti-good time. It was awkward, very, very awkward. Very BiCo if you will. I think we can interchange awkward and BiCo, they really mean the same thing (that's Bi-College, Bryn Mawr and Haverford, for you non-BiCo readers). Also, unexpected twist (that really given her body of work should have been completely expected), Amy Sedaris has an incredibly offensive style of comedy. Anywhere else this goes over great. At the BiCo it goes over with the "should I laugh? Is it ok to laugh?" nervous giggle. All around uncomfortable experience.

We left the auditorium in desperate need of a drink. A new bar had opened up across from the Acme (Now how appealing does THAT sound!?!) and we decided to try it out. We couldn't remember it's name so we each called it something different. My personal favorite was Peter O'Tooles, which I now solely refer to it as. Other winners included McSquirrilys and McSwirleys. The ACTUAL name is Tip O'Learys. I still prefer to call it Peter O'Tooles. Peter O'Tooles was fairly lame. It was still early so only a few old men and yuppieish guys were in there. After one beer we moved down the street to Roaches. I hadn't been to Roaches yet, but heard it was popular with the drinking crowds. It was definitely different from the other Main Line bars. I'm not sure how the Main Line hasn't kicked it out yet as the beer is stored in fridges on slabs of cardboard and the bathroom is less than perfectly sanitary. Not a usual sight in Bryn Mawr. Megan pissed off the bartender by calling him sir, apparently she hit a nerve, who knew. Needless to say I will now refer to him by sir and only sir when (if) we go back. We stayed at Roaches for awhile, enjoying the smokey beer drenched atmosphere and creepy guys. After awhile Elizabeth, the birthday girl, announced that she wanted to move on to Kellys for more fun and dancing. Kellys is about a mile away from Roaches so we began the slow, tortuous walk down Lancaster Ave, each of us assigning ourselves a buddy to make sure we all made it. This long walk taught me a lot about my friends, mainly that we're all assholes. We spent the entire walk just yelling at each other and being incredibly cruel, pointing out shortcomings like slow walking and failures as a girlfriend. One might say "well you all had some alcohol in you, so..." nope, the alcohol did not affect this. Our friendship is based off of yelling and judgement. 

We never made it to Kellys as we hit Erins first and just decided to stay there. Erins was hot and crowded and I didn't last more than one drink. Megan and Nicky set to work harrassing a man wearing a flannel shirt, with Nicky trying, as always, to figure out the fiber content of his shirt. Ari spent a good portion of the time talking to a guy that she claims is a "legend at Villanova" and when I gave her a look of confusion she responded "I'll show you the youtube videos". This man carries a light-saber everywhere he goes, so I judge the usage of the term "legend". I'm also wary of anyone who can only be explained through the usage of youtube videos. Paige and I are complete party poopers and couldn't take the hot smokey environment so we stepped outside for some air. Best decision we've ever made. First of all, we didn't get beer spilled all over us. Second of all, I ran into a friend that I haven't seen since 8th grade. Third, and most importantly, we meet Drew. Drew is a jazz musician specializing in 1920's and early 30's piano and trumpet music. We met him after he walked by us shouting into a phone "DO NOT CALL THE COPS! NO! SERIOUSLY MAN! BAD IDEA! DON'T CALL THE COPS!". We couldn't resist asking him what that was all about. After chatting with him about music and my dream to have a Great Gatsby party (he's totally down and gave me his card in case I ever go through with it) he whipped out a POCKET WATCH to check the time. Paige and I were blown away, this pocket watch weighed a ton and according to him was from the 1890's. It doesn't take a lot to amuse me so a pocket watch just blew me off the charts. I could have spent the night licking stamps and still have deemed it awesome simply because I met a man who unironically carries around a pocket watch.