“The jazz is dippin’ in the tub.” - Grzl Star
What does this mean?
A) This music is the sickest.
B) Our band just got signed and I’m going to be a millionaire.
C) Will Smith and DJ Jazzy Jeff are making out.
D) The refrigerator drawers are drying in the bathroom.
The first person to get it right gets a free autographed Grzl Star CD.
As some of you may know, I write 200 word paragraphs in my free time. This is not by choice. I’ve never been skilled at estimating time/distance/quantities, but I’d say that the office I work in is about 3 by 4 feet. The bossman sits in the middle and I sit against the wall writing 200 word masterpieces. So you can imagine my surprise when I walked in today to find someone sitting at the third desk. Clearly, this was her first day since she was wearing what I judged to be Old Navy stretch khakis and a blue collared shirt. A new colleague, I thought. Perhaps we can become friends. This idea became ridiculous when, fifteen minutes after leaving our cube, she returned and said, Where’s the bathroom, I’m lost. I decided she was incompetent and a friendship would be impossible.
In other news, I quit the gym today. First, I had a bad experience a few months ago during which some creepy construction workers moseyed into the women’s locker room while I was in mid dress. Upon reporting the incident to the front desk, they reacted with apathy and annoyance. Two, I am no longer made of money. When I spoke to the assistant manager this afternoon about the complaint, he replied, Well, I’ve learned a lot. I don’t know what this means, but I thanked him while giving him mean eyes. Win?
And now I’d like to take this opportunity to post the Feel Good Text of the Day:
Alex to Peter: I canceled NYSC [New York Sports Club]
Peter to Alex: Did you cancel your boyfriends too? ….hahahahaha… tjk tjk
We just made the horrible mistake of going to see a 9:50pm showing of The Curious Case of Benjamin Button. A movie so bad, that half way through Peter said, The only case worse than this is Chicken Pox. And in between sighs of boredom, Sean said, This movie feels like a perfume commercial. I learned three things from this movie: Cate Blanchett has great skin, Brad Pitt can’t act, and the producers spent all their money on make-up and special effects and forgot the screenplay, plot, character development, and overall tact. In fact, the best part about this movie is the trailer. I’ve posted it for you here. You can watch it on repeat for the next 2 hours and 48 minutes and save yourself $14 and the loss of innocence that is seeing Brad Pitt look so hot, yet fail so hard. I know. Way harsh, Tai.
So here’s a photo of Ma Sweet modeling her purple fur coat. Unfortunately, it looks dim in this photo, but I assure you, it screams.
My parents have been in a book club for 23 years. This is true. It started with a bunch of University of Chicago folks in Hyde Park and has continued even since. After an evening of listening to adults talk about a book we hadn’t read, the hosts treated us some musical entertainment, as they’ve both been taking harmonica lessons for the past three years. Here is a sampling.
Almost done.
I’d like to use this opportunity to funnel all of my frustration and aggression into a list of things I hate:
Grad School Personal Statements
Freezing Rain
(more to come, I’m sure)
It’s funny. Part of the reason I came home to Chicago for Christmas was because I didn’t want to spend it alone in Brooklyn because that might be depressing. I don’t celebrate anything around the holidays, but everyone else I know does, and the idea of sitting at home by myself made me nervous. So I came home and, as luck will have it, am spending today home and alone. It’s true. Ma Sweet, Sarah Sweet, and StepPa Bourne went to visit our step-family-once-removed in Barrington, Illinois. I think that is also the hometown of Peter’s sister’s fiance, so, I’ll go ahead and point that out now so Peter doesn’t need to go to the trouble of announcing it in a comment below. I have opted to stay home and finish up last minute details for grad school applications to avoid public panic. Fortunately, before they scampered off to flee my grad-app tantrums, my parents were thoughtful enough to leave me half a leg of roast and a raw potato on the counter. For many who celebrate Christmas Day surrounded by family and loved ones and fried meat, these circumstances might seem unfavorable. However, I am quite happy, particularly because this place has everything I can’t afford, physically or financially, like red meat, smoked fish, diet soda pop, berry pies, and cookies, in addition to flower bouquests, unit-controlled heat, 5-at-a-time Netlfix movies, and purple fur coats. This is not a joke. I hope everyone is having a safe and happy day surrounded by things and peoples and foods they love. In Judaism, that is what we do for 8 days, so having a day off is a nice respite until the Sweet-Bournes return and we can play secular dreidle until the kosher cows come home. Challahatcha.
If you ever wondered what my childhood was like, I think this about sums it up. Just lounging amongst the ferns in my denim jumper, browsing Monet paintings in the middle of the night. Apparently Hinsdale, IL, the teardown capital of the country, does more than ruin quaint, historic homes; it ruins fun.
I just spent the past fifteen minutes rummaging through an old stack of photos, trying to find a picture of me basking in the joy of suburban childhood, frolicking with my family in the backyard, or winning a soccer game with all of my friends. Unfortunately, I recovered this, which does nothing to convince you that my childhood was not altogether different than an episode of Dynasty.
