Fry Wars

Hanging out at the ATO house on a freezing cold Saturday night after an Alabama victory is always entertaining. But this particular Saturday, there were a lot of RMTs (rich moments in time). 

As Charlie tightly gripped by wrists, stopping me from retrieving the Arches' french fries I so desperately desired, Dan began inhaling them right in front of my face. Cole then called Dan a "frinhaler" (meaning french fry inhaler). I'd also like to add that this is not the first time Cole has called Dan a name involving french fries. At Mugshots a few weeks ago, Cole held a french fry up to Dan's forehead and called him "fryclops."

Later on, while Charlie was still holding my wrists, my phone rang and Cole answered. After forcing me to talk on the phone with no hands, simply holding the phone in between my collar bone and chin, he then put the phone down the back of my shirt. In a quick, defensive move, I leaned forward to keep the phone from falling out of my shirt. Cole then called me the "Hunchback of Notre Phone," which makes absolutely no sense. 

Also, while watching Star Wars, everyone wondered how General Grieves (a robot, mind you) could cough. Charlie quickly asserted the answer: He had a virus. Good answer, Charles. Very corny.

Everyone should join Twitter...

Somebody bring me my jorts.

This priceless text conversation between Anna and me took place a few minutes after the Sorority Row blackout Thursday night. And no, that's not the name of a cool party. Apparently someone ran into an electrical pole near Jack's fine dining and subsequently knocked out all of the power in a two-mile radius.

Kmac was walking from her car to AXO when the lights went out, convinced that a serial murderer had engineered this plot to more easily take her out. Meagan and I were in the room, and when everything went black she hurriedly squeezed every last drop of battery out of her laptop to finish Physics, while I lamented more the spoiling of my cranberry juice down in the fridge than my project for Mass Com that was now lost forever.

Anyway, while chaos ensued, my text convo with Anna about Twilight tickets took a morbid turn.

Anna: Good. Is it a Thursday? DANG IT power.

Me: All ours just shut off too!!! Yeah its thursday the 20th at 12:01

Anna: Ok well I suppose I will get it tomorrow, it kicked me off the internet

Me: Yeah apparently someone hit a pole by Jacks and everyone in a five mile radius is in the dark

Anna: What a jerk

(At this point, the evil side of me took over...)

Me: I think he died

Anna: I am a terrible person. That is sad

Me: Just kidding. I don't know if he did or not. Now I'm a terrible person

Anna: Yes, you are

Me: This is definitely going on the blog

So, as you can see, I often make very inappropriate, flippant jokes about death. But Anna started it with her immediate finger-pointing of this "jerk" who ruined our evening.

Adieu.

swagger like us

So this weekend I was going to go to Gunnersville with the perpetually sassy Jilli Sparks.  However, in a sequence of events not altogether unsurprising Jilli ended up having heaps of work to get done before next week.  So I amiably suggested she stay in town and get her work done and I'd head to Chattanooga.  I hatched a plan to shock my family by arriving on the doorstep ready to spend the weekend with them.  I called my brother to fill him in on my wonderful little intention: 

Me (on cell phone passing Mercedes): Hey Riley!

Riley: What's up.

Me (whispering): Are you by yourself?

Riley: Um yeah?

Me: Like where are you?

Riley: In the den.

Me: Are you in earshot of anyone?

Riley: No.

Me (triumphantly): I'M ON MY WAY HOME TO SURPRISE YOU!

Riley: Mom, Dad and I are heading to Ole Miss in thirty minutes for me to do a college visit.

So that was neat and treasured.  Chris was spending the weekend with his family in Decatur so since I was about 14 miles outside of Birmingham and had been rejected by friends and family alike I called him and he, in true stalwart boyfriend fashion, invited me to Decatur. I informed him that at that point I was exiting onto I-65 and would probably be there in an hour. 

So I began the requisite task of text messaging those nearest and dearest.  Now, I have recently broken a vow of October sketchiness.  I apologize to those affected by my bought of intravertism.  I think I'm over it.  I blame it on too many years of single sex education. But I was textin my boo KMac when she bestowed this wonderful imagery upon me: 

Me: (snarky comment hypothetically envisioning her hooking up with someone)

KMac: Vomit. And poke my eye out. 

Not both eyes, just the one. Oh sweet little half-blind KMac!

glad to be back!

sy 

Life is too short for serious

The following conversation occurred after expressing bitterness about being mocked and basically judged for choosing not to drink.

Catherine Shelton (the paraphrased version): I have this new theory on going to bars with a fake i.d. You know when middle schoolers try to sneak into a high school party...yeah same thing. It's NOT COOL.

Me (laughing hysterically): Yeah middle school called, they want their trick back!

Moral of the story: We believe that people should not be defined by their preference of alcohol. I'm not Kristin McDonald, the 21 year old female non-drinker. I'm sweet little KMac. Who cares if I don't drink, I dance like I'm drunk.

Get it, get it, get it, Girl. 

Purified by Reverse Osmosis

I consider Maurizio my friend. When I graduate, he'll have taught me half of my required Italian minor classes, and by then I'll for sure have figured out which character from A Bug's Life he is kin to.

Normally, Italian class is excruciatingly painful. I just sit there and read my water bottle label, and usually spend about 20 minutes in the bathroom playing Brickbreaker on my phone. When I'm in class I pass the time observing the two people who sit next to me--we'll call them Phillipa and Stefano.

I've been trying to figure out for half the semester if Phillipa and Stefano are dating. Part of me thinks yes, this would be logical considering the way they act, but I truly believe in my heart that they are one of those couples that is not technically dating, but meet only during their many classes together and flirt shamelessly. The reason I think they are not together is that she sycophantly smiles and bats her eyes at everything he says (still trying to impress him), and they never touch. Also, their conversation revolves around what they do with their own respective friend groups. It's an interesting study in humanity.

Anyway, today two rich moments took place. Sometimes Maurizio will start spouting off Italian phrases molte veloce and we have absolutely no idea what he's trying to say. We strain our ears to catch a familiar word here and there, but most of the time this is fruitless. But today I could tell Stefano was into it, perhaps because I overheard Maurizio tell him to be more outspoken in class.

Maurizio: "bliemcci shsnienla abbotti que cheils lsija; eli; ei;lia;l "pesca" keinifno ello hihwwko.... (you get the idea)

Stefano: PESCA!! peach! peach!

Maurizio: No, come "pescare"

Stefano: TO FISH! TO FISH! (by now everyone is looking at him strangely)

Maurizio: Something about fish...

Stefano: (crazed look in his eye) FISH! FISH! FISHY! FISH-FOOD! No, wait, FISH-MONGER!!!!

Class: (stunned silence)

Phillipa: Fish-monger? You're an idiot.

I was so happy for Phillipa at that point. Way to be yourself and call him out, girlfriend!

Later on Maurizio did his thing where he starts asking us questions in Italian and we try to come up with some kind of answer. He asked this girl on the front row to repeat what he said as an acceptable answer, and she hopelessly announced, "I have no idea what that means or what is going on." He laughed and made her repeat the answer again. "Right," said she, "but I still don't understand a word." Then the little man laughed and said,

Maurizio: That is the beauty of foreign language. You can say things and you don't even understand what you're saying.

I think he might be missing the point.

superstar, where you from how's it goin?

I know this is my third consecutive post but trust me YOU WANNA READ THIS.

Per usual, a group of gathered at the intersection of Convent and 13th (aka Hill, Graham and Robert's crib) to watch a slew of shows.  It was after enduring the painful portrayal of Claire Bennett by Hayden Panettiere on Heroes and laughing at the the Star Wars motifs on Big Bang Theory that it came time to watch How I Met Your Mother. 

We were all enraptured by Stella and Ted's marriage plans. I mean is she the one? I don't know because this is only the second episode I've ever seen. I hope she isn't because Sarah Chalke bothers me ever since the masterminds behind Scrubs decided to give Elliot a makeover mid- season. She was so much more endearing all awkward and without excess hair fringe.  They should probably fire all the other females on the show except for Allyson Hannigan because she was Willow on Buffy. And Buffy rulz. 

But anyway, the crux of the dilemma from last night's show was that Ted insisted on his ex Robin being present at the ceremony. Stella, his fiancee, was adamant however that having exes present at your wedding is painstakingly uncomfortable and should be avoided at all costs. 

And from this came the following remark: 

Hill Sewell: Aw man, that means I can't invite any of my friends to my wedding!

...And then...

Graham Gillespie: Don't worry Hill I'll come to your wedding. 

Hill Sewell: Not after last weekend you won't. 

Oh Hilly. You and your wild oats. 

hooray college!

sy

 

you can have whatever you like

Continuing my layover at procrastination station, I have decided to blog. This makes me a repeat offender for the week.  But dat's ok.

This week has been quite busy in the life of the Art and Sciences Ambassadors. Don't let Yates and her viral video campaign fool you.  Sure Capstone may bear the responsibility of giving tours to prospective students of promise, have to memorize unfathomable amounts of campus history, endure intense heat in poly-blended pantsuits and sacrifice innumerable hours of vacation and study time.

But we all know the Arts and Sciences Ambassadors are the ones who carry the real weight of the University's success. There's Arty Party. And we also have to pomp something for homecoming. And sell t-shirts. And there are meetings which Kristin and I may or may not arbitrarily attend. I also may occasionally COMPLETELY forget to be a member of this organization until I check my phone and think "why do I have two missed calls from Graham Gillespie OHCRAPWEHADAMEETINGTONIGHT." 

Clearly, the A&S Ambassadors need to be the ones telling you what Crimson is. 

And if the above criteria aren't enough to assure you of this than the following dialogue certainly will.  This past Tuesday night Kristin and I attended a dinner given in honor of a performance group in town to put on their show "Unless the Mind Catch Fire...".  Kristin and I opted to sit at the Wissinger table because it was the furthest removed from the door and we figured maybe nobody else would sit with us and we could eat all the fruit cups.  

This was not to be.  For not long after in flounced the titular Miss Donna Wissinger.  She was a flutist in the production.  Later on Dean Olin joined us.  DWiss was quite the free soul and after hearing about Kristin and I's studies and tentative career paths she somewhat dreamily remarked to Dean Olin that she wanted to date both of us.  Dean Olin has a doctorate in Math and most likely thought that Kristin and I's dreams of non-profit glory were not quite as romantic.

I severely digress. It was somewhere amongst all of this small talk that Kristin and DWiss had the following exchange. 

DWiss: Well I did a tour of Russia when it was still the USSR. And we went all over but at one point I was in Uzbekistan and I just was so not acclimated to it you know? 

Kristin: (politely nodding)

DWiss: And I was just so scared and closed off and I just kept thinking to myself I cannot get this. But then one day I just stepped back and thought to myself, I thought, you know what? The same culture that is in this place is being birthed in my very own cells. And I just got it all immediately.  You know I just felt a part of that place because it was within me and throughout me.

Kristin: Aw.

Now you tell me that A&S Ambassadors aren't the breadwinners of this institution. 

suzie halliday 4eva!

sy