I could watch this video over and over again! It reminds me of my sister!!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_OBlgSz8sSM
Monday, December 13, 2010
Tuesday, December 7, 2010
Jersey Shore comes to Spanish class
A huge Spanish test is coming up and my professor is going over some grammar that has been particularly complicated for most of us; for once, I am beginning to get it :)
To begin with, she was saying questions out loud to the class and we were, in turn, supposed to answer. Even as a full class, we were getting them wrong. Slowly she would explain that we were all wrong, yet again, and then start over with the instructions. She wrote diagrams on the board (in Spanish...but I won't criticize her teaching habits...), made up cute little sayings (again in Spanish...just to be clear), and finally the class as a whole started doing better.
My teacher progressed to calling on individual students and at one point the majority of the class raised their hands. She called on a girl at the front and the girl repeated back the correct response. Ding, Ding...we were getting it.
There is a nice guy who sits a few seats back from me. He's real funny and pretty good at Spanish. After the girl at the front answered her questions, my teacher looks past me and asks if the boy had a question.
"?Pregunta?"
The guy says, "Oh no. I got the answer right. I was just fist pumpin' to my success."
The class bursts into laughter and all my professor managed to say is, "Bueno" with a huge, confused smile on her face.
To begin with, she was saying questions out loud to the class and we were, in turn, supposed to answer. Even as a full class, we were getting them wrong. Slowly she would explain that we were all wrong, yet again, and then start over with the instructions. She wrote diagrams on the board (in Spanish...but I won't criticize her teaching habits...), made up cute little sayings (again in Spanish...just to be clear), and finally the class as a whole started doing better.
My teacher progressed to calling on individual students and at one point the majority of the class raised their hands. She called on a girl at the front and the girl repeated back the correct response. Ding, Ding...we were getting it.
There is a nice guy who sits a few seats back from me. He's real funny and pretty good at Spanish. After the girl at the front answered her questions, my teacher looks past me and asks if the boy had a question.
"?Pregunta?"
The guy says, "Oh no. I got the answer right. I was just fist pumpin' to my success."
The class bursts into laughter and all my professor managed to say is, "Bueno" with a huge, confused smile on her face.
Wednesday, December 1, 2010
Redneck Thanksgiving
There is a certain pride and joy that I have from being born in Mississippi. Mostly there is the is that southern-pride thing and the joy that my dad got us the hell out of there. No matter, I am from a VERY small town in Mississippi and most of my family lives there. I love going home because I love my family, no matter how insane they are sometimes :)
Thanksgiving is also my favorite holiday probably because I have so much to be thankful for...and the food. This Thanksgiving we went "home" and although I was sickly, we still had a wonderful time. I knew I would have lots to blog about with my family around and this story is only about an hour of my Redneck Thanksgiving. More to come :)
The men in my family scare people just by their gruff nature and their strong/silent type of mood. My grandfather, Earnie, is no different, except for that silent part. I am always trying to talk him in to giving me his truck, but alas this never happens so this Thanksgiving I asked if he would teach me to drive the [white] truck that hauls the horse trailer.( Every year he takes his horses and dogs up to South Dakota and stays at a house of his up there. Old man stuff....and he just got back) Of course, he couldn't deny my request.
My sister and I along with my dad and grandfather go outside in the wet and he tells us to load up. My sister and I cram into the front seat: we don't like the back. Kristen finds a cowboy had and slaps that on, starts searching through his junk (she found a ring and a GPS), and as I look listen to my dad and grandpa talk. I hear my dad tell my grandfather this is the first time driving a trailer this big and he should give us "some instructions on that blind spot." With Kristen and her "riding cap" we head off.
His instructions went about like this: "see that [points out the right mirror], watch that" and he hands over the wheel to my sister who frequently tunes out instructions. WTF. Yeah.
She takes it around the 3 mile loop (which is like a 4 or 5 mile road with no lines) and then we switch and do it again. Apparently we were watching whatever we were supposed to be watching okay and then Kristen pulls into a church parking lot and just about destroys the shrubs. That's when I take back over. At this point we had turned around and started going the other way...left turns :). My grandpa says, "Bit, come over a little you are gon' hit so-and-so's mailbox." So I say, "Thanks I did not wanna clip it."
The southern man sitting next to me looked like he was about to crap his pants, "Clip it hell, you just about took the aluminum off the slide of my trailer."
Woops. Guess those left turns are a little trickier than I thought, huh. I was not invited to South Dakota next year.
Thanksgiving is also my favorite holiday probably because I have so much to be thankful for...and the food. This Thanksgiving we went "home" and although I was sickly, we still had a wonderful time. I knew I would have lots to blog about with my family around and this story is only about an hour of my Redneck Thanksgiving. More to come :)
The men in my family scare people just by their gruff nature and their strong/silent type of mood. My grandfather, Earnie, is no different, except for that silent part. I am always trying to talk him in to giving me his truck, but alas this never happens so this Thanksgiving I asked if he would teach me to drive the [white] truck that hauls the horse trailer.( Every year he takes his horses and dogs up to South Dakota and stays at a house of his up there. Old man stuff....and he just got back) Of course, he couldn't deny my request.
My sister and I along with my dad and grandfather go outside in the wet and he tells us to load up. My sister and I cram into the front seat: we don't like the back. Kristen finds a cowboy had and slaps that on, starts searching through his junk (she found a ring and a GPS), and as I look listen to my dad and grandpa talk. I hear my dad tell my grandfather this is the first time driving a trailer this big and he should give us "some instructions on that blind spot." With Kristen and her "riding cap" we head off.
His instructions went about like this: "see that [points out the right mirror], watch that" and he hands over the wheel to my sister who frequently tunes out instructions. WTF. Yeah.
She takes it around the 3 mile loop (which is like a 4 or 5 mile road with no lines) and then we switch and do it again. Apparently we were watching whatever we were supposed to be watching okay and then Kristen pulls into a church parking lot and just about destroys the shrubs. That's when I take back over. At this point we had turned around and started going the other way...left turns :). My grandpa says, "Bit, come over a little you are gon' hit so-and-so's mailbox." So I say, "Thanks I did not wanna clip it."
The southern man sitting next to me looked like he was about to crap his pants, "Clip it hell, you just about took the aluminum off the slide of my trailer."
Woops. Guess those left turns are a little trickier than I thought, huh. I was not invited to South Dakota next year.
Thursday, November 18, 2010
Remember...
[I should be studying]
One weekend over the summer I was at my best friend's house with my mom and sister ; her dad and brother were also present. To outside observers, this should seem weird, but for us it is not. [side note]
This past summer I took a couple of classes in Athens and my "bff" was filling me in on the latest small-town gossip. This summer in particular, it seemed like there were a lot of pregnancies from couples that we knew. Both of our parents were super young when they got married and had us and we were chatting about what it would be like to have a kid right now.
Apparently, this scared her father. Now, her dad is...how do I say this?...a little rough around the edges. He acts all tough with us (he thinks my sister and I are two of his own) and tries to keep us on a straight line. Despite his gruff nature, we normally break him down pretty easy. I have personally been known to make him blush.
Anyways: Because my own dad was not there, I guess he decided to take on the arduous task of giving us three girls a quick run down on the "birds and the bees." Yeah, you read it correctly. 19, 19, and 21 years old...our moms pretty much covered all that, but this was no ordinary talk.
This talk happened to be around the same time we were learning about the male and female reproductive systems in BIO 1103 and I decided to share a few stats that a guy in my class shared with me. Hot tubs, killing sperm. Very strange. Very wrong. Very scary that he believed these tall-tales.
Her dad was scared.
At one point we were all talking and the next thing I know, I see his hand make this strange, snake-like motion from across the room. "The swimmies can still swim." The room went silent. Then he began to elaborate...I guess he noticed the confused looks on our faces. "The swimmies will find their way. They will still swim." Was he referring to the hot tub story? Why does he keep moving his hand that way? All of these internal questions had me glancing around at the other females in the room for some sign of what to say next. It was all too strange from a man that accuses us of unlady-like behavior when we say "hell".
Not to mention, my best friend's younger brother was in the room and is in full-puberty mode. After this conversation, I sure hope his mom does not expect grandchildren.
Finally, my sister, who had been quiet through most of this process speaks up: "Can you please stop with the hand." At that point we could no longer hold in the awkwardness the conversation.
His attempt to showcase that he cared about our conversation, lives, and the decisions we make was completely overshadowed by that one solitary hand motion...and the fact that he was listening in on our gossip.
Now, it is an inside joke about "swimmies"; we never fail to use that hand motion.
One weekend over the summer I was at my best friend's house with my mom and sister ; her dad and brother were also present. To outside observers, this should seem weird, but for us it is not. [side note]
This past summer I took a couple of classes in Athens and my "bff" was filling me in on the latest small-town gossip. This summer in particular, it seemed like there were a lot of pregnancies from couples that we knew. Both of our parents were super young when they got married and had us and we were chatting about what it would be like to have a kid right now.
Apparently, this scared her father. Now, her dad is...how do I say this?...a little rough around the edges. He acts all tough with us (he thinks my sister and I are two of his own) and tries to keep us on a straight line. Despite his gruff nature, we normally break him down pretty easy. I have personally been known to make him blush.
Anyways: Because my own dad was not there, I guess he decided to take on the arduous task of giving us three girls a quick run down on the "birds and the bees." Yeah, you read it correctly. 19, 19, and 21 years old...our moms pretty much covered all that, but this was no ordinary talk.
This talk happened to be around the same time we were learning about the male and female reproductive systems in BIO 1103 and I decided to share a few stats that a guy in my class shared with me. Hot tubs, killing sperm. Very strange. Very wrong. Very scary that he believed these tall-tales.
Her dad was scared.
At one point we were all talking and the next thing I know, I see his hand make this strange, snake-like motion from across the room. "The swimmies can still swim." The room went silent. Then he began to elaborate...I guess he noticed the confused looks on our faces. "The swimmies will find their way. They will still swim." Was he referring to the hot tub story? Why does he keep moving his hand that way? All of these internal questions had me glancing around at the other females in the room for some sign of what to say next. It was all too strange from a man that accuses us of unlady-like behavior when we say "hell".
Not to mention, my best friend's younger brother was in the room and is in full-puberty mode. After this conversation, I sure hope his mom does not expect grandchildren.
Finally, my sister, who had been quiet through most of this process speaks up: "Can you please stop with the hand." At that point we could no longer hold in the awkwardness the conversation.
His attempt to showcase that he cared about our conversation, lives, and the decisions we make was completely overshadowed by that one solitary hand motion...and the fact that he was listening in on our gossip.
Now, it is an inside joke about "swimmies"; we never fail to use that hand motion.
Sunday, November 14, 2010
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
It is a wild ride
This "carnival" consisted of three rides--two of which I had never been on--and some junk food stands that fried Oreos. The first ride was a complete success and I only got a mild case of the sea-sickness that I normally encounter at events such as this. (I can get car sick driving myself.) While we were standing in line, we caught up with some friends from last year and basically chilled until the nice carni man set us up with our own four-seat bucket on the ride. The Ride: when you sit in the bucket and turn the wheel, and then the whole thing spins... I have no idea what this is called. Anyway...success.
With our wind-blown hair and scratched voices, my two friends and I headed to the next line. This one was even longer than the first, but some nice gentlemen let us cut in front of them and we were on the ride in no time.
Here is some information that I forgot to mention. The second ride was the Pirate Ship one that goes back and forth in the air; being a Union member, I knew this one was coming. I asked a family friend if I would be okay, considering the fact that I had never tried this one before. Her response was, "Of course, just don't get on it if it has an over-the-lap harness." Okay, no big deal.
About the time that me and my two girlfriends got to the loading zone, I noticed that this ride did indeed have over-the-lap harnesses. But, because of the supreme success I had had on the first ride, I was going for it. Big mistake.
Not only did this new carni man split up my friends and I, but he also STOPPED the ride after it had started going and had people switch around because of a weight imbalance. Was this necessary? That's when I started to get nervous. As he started the ride back up again, I thought to myself, "grow a pair." Two minutes later, they were stolen away and given to the boy beside me.
I remember when I was little and my sister and I would try to swing higher than each other on the rickety backyard swing that was at our house. This thing was made out of some sort of aluminum, it felt like, and about the time we got to going really good, the dang thing would HOP up and lifted off the earth. Our butts would lift off the seat at precisely the same moment. Then, of course, my mom would tell us to slow down and keep the legs on the ground. On this ride, my mom was not there.
I felt like we had been riding for 10 minutes when we started to speed up and get higher in the air. That's when my butt, just like when I was little, began to lift off the seat. This is when I remembered the "no over the lap harness" rule and I could SEE WHY!
Thank goodness for the brown boy sitting next to me on this said ride. Before the ride I slid in and noticed that he seemed a bit nervous too, but he was a boy...he would survive. The odor the surrounded this lovely young man told me that he had been there way longer than I had, but I was not judging. When my butt lifted off that seat the first time, I made friends with this boy REAL quick. "I don't know you..." but I grabbed his arm and dug my skull into his skinny shoulder (odor not noticed). He quickly said, "It is okay! I won't let go." An image of Titanic surfaced in my mind and then my butt lifted off the seat again. Then a few foul, four letter words slipped out and I could feel the queasiness rise to my throat. Thank goodness for the little brown boy. That stranger helped me though possibly one of the worst experiences of my life. I owe him...though I don't remember his face. My eyes were closed.
Thursday, October 21, 2010
In-Grown
After eating a good breakfast (dining hall-how good can it get?) I grabbed a bus and headed towards the art building on campus. Several other people got on with me and I hear a conversation start up behind me. I am sitting in a single seat and I tend not to face forward; they were in plain sight. Obviously, I don't refer to myself as a "snooper" but when someone talks loud enough I simply can't ignore him/her. Today was no different.
This conversation starts between a male and female student. When my voice fluctuates if often means I am nervous, but I have noticed that other people change the octaves in their voice, subconsciously, when they are excited and/or happy. Let's go with that.
Boy: Hi _____!
Girl: Helooooh ______! (said octave change)
I assumed they were simply acquaintances but they were not "hatin'" their current situation. Flirt on Playa. Pleasantries continue and just as I think the conversation is dying down to that awkward "yeah" the girl asks the boy where is off to. Health Center. Girl seems concerned (nice touch), adds another fluctuation in her voice then asks, "Oh, no! Are you sick." The next few words changed my bus ride. "I have an in-grown."
Now, me? I am super squeamish and would have changed the conversation REAL quick as to avoid throwing up all over this nice young man's sneakers that housed his weird toe. This girl was a trooper. She continued to ask about his toe as he went into an anecdote about how this was a follow up visit. Apparently the toenail had already been removed (barf for me). [digress: more than one person on this bus was listening, intently, to this story]
Okay so in-growns are a natural part of life I suppose and I mean no disrespect to this poor boy, but honestly that is not the sexiest of conversations out there. The detailed description of the puss and ooze that evacuated his toe when the doctor shot him up with pain relievers was simply too much for me.
Maybe it was love that kept this female Freshman talking to toe-boy, maybe she's just really nice. All I know, after the description of the puss, she got off at the next stop.
Thank you public transportation for being my muse.
This conversation starts between a male and female student. When my voice fluctuates if often means I am nervous, but I have noticed that other people change the octaves in their voice, subconsciously, when they are excited and/or happy. Let's go with that.
Boy: Hi _____!
Girl: Helooooh ______! (said octave change)
I assumed they were simply acquaintances but they were not "hatin'" their current situation. Flirt on Playa. Pleasantries continue and just as I think the conversation is dying down to that awkward "yeah" the girl asks the boy where is off to. Health Center. Girl seems concerned (nice touch), adds another fluctuation in her voice then asks, "Oh, no! Are you sick." The next few words changed my bus ride. "I have an in-grown."
Now, me? I am super squeamish and would have changed the conversation REAL quick as to avoid throwing up all over this nice young man's sneakers that housed his weird toe. This girl was a trooper. She continued to ask about his toe as he went into an anecdote about how this was a follow up visit. Apparently the toenail had already been removed (barf for me). [digress: more than one person on this bus was listening, intently, to this story]
Okay so in-growns are a natural part of life I suppose and I mean no disrespect to this poor boy, but honestly that is not the sexiest of conversations out there. The detailed description of the puss and ooze that evacuated his toe when the doctor shot him up with pain relievers was simply too much for me.
Maybe it was love that kept this female Freshman talking to toe-boy, maybe she's just really nice. All I know, after the description of the puss, she got off at the next stop.
Thank you public transportation for being my muse.
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