Wednesday, April 30, 2008
Yesterday was the day of my very last final exam. I think it went well but I don't remember much because the exam ran from 9am-12 and I took my first tequila shot at 1:18 pm. I moved onto beer around 2, drank red wine with dinner at 8:30, had a gin and seven up at 11:00, 2 absinthe martinis (yes absinthe) around midnight and a vodka tonic around 3:00 am. I think as far as university-completion-celebration go that was pretty tame in terms of alcohol consumption. Of course drinking is the easy part, figuring out to do with your life is a bit harder. But I'll have to leave that for another day because tomorrow I'm driving down to Kentucky with a few friends to move most of my stuff down. I'll be back in Montreal on the 8th; in the mean time posting will be a little spotty but I hope you all have a fabulous weekend (I'll be at the Kentucky Derby on Saturday) and I will report back to the blogosphere then.
Posted by Hannah at 9:37 PM
Monday, April 28, 2008
That you post from the computer lab on campus because you are trapped there. That's right; trapped. In a hurry to get to your 9am final this morning (in which you surprisingly didn't suck) you forgot your hideous floral umbrella that you had to spend TWENTY dollars on the last time you had to trek to Urban Outfitters because a lamp you bought there BLEW UP (have I not told you thist story? Be prepared to hear it after finals) and you were determined that they would give you a replacement for free. Of course once you dug around and found the replacement lamp it started sleeting so you had to buy an umbrella, which cost more than the original lamp ever did. Anyways, after your final you thought "I'll be responsible and study in the lab!" and now it's literally pouring outside and you are stuck in the computer lab without any of the delicious frosted brownies you made last night. Moral of the story kids: always fucking carry an umbrella.
1. You post a photo album of your proposal on Facebook, replete with at least a dozen fuzzy pictures of your engagement ring.
2. Your boyfriend, excuse me, your fiance, looks as though he cannot yet grow facial hair.
3. Your registry includes Scrubs Season 5 on DVD. Not that I don't love a good situational comedy but there is a time and place. This point could also be amended to read "Your registry included Jersey Sheets in Twin Extra Long for your dorm." Okay, that last part of about the XL Twin is an exaggeration (the Jersey Sheet thing is, I'm afraid, not).
Sunday, April 27, 2008
Today I left a ring I wear all the time in a cafe I was studying in. I guess I left it on the sink when I went to wash my hands in the restroom and didn't realize it until a couple hours when I was in the library. It's one of those cheap things that always means way more to you than expensive counterparts. My mom got it for me a couple of summers ago and when she gave it to me would at first not let me open the box because "your friends are here and if you don't like it you'll have to pretend you do and then they'll be like 'ew you like that?' and I don't want you to be embarrassed." How cute is that? I of course forced her to let me open it and didn't even have to feign adoration because I loved it.
It's fat so it doesn't make the awkward long fingers (more on my self consciousness about the long fingers later) look longer and it's simple yet interesting. Anyways, after a couple months of wearing it the "X" on the top fell off. I kept meaning to take it to get fixed but never did until finally when I was home over Christmas break this past year my mom whipped out a blow torch and together we soldered it back on. That's the sort of mom I have; the kind that built her darkroom and photography studio by hand (drywall, plumbing, even built the sink herself) in the unfinished portion of our basement to work from home, the kind that when I went away to college turned into Rosie The Riveter and renovated the entire house with books like "HVAC For Dummies." So, to make a long story slightly less long, I'm glad I found it.
Saturday, April 26, 2008
Fact: Shoe shopping online feels like a really good idea when your alternative is tackling a 500 page book on the Chinese economy that you should have read over the course of two months but are currently trying to do in two days. Over the past couple of years I've really reeled against the whole "oxfords for women" shoe trend, just because it didn't seem to add up correctly for me. But I stumbled across this Ferragamo pair on ebay and are kind of intrigued by them. Are they so ugly they're cute or should I close my web browser and lock my ebay account until finals are over?
Unnecessary straps. Something you probably could have figured out by the title of my blog but so it goes. Anyways, this problem has been exacerbated by the plethora of cute and cheap shoes I have found on ebay that are slingbacks. I. Hate. Slingbacks. I mean, I don't hate them in general I just don't like them for me because they look kind of goofy from behind with skirts and finding dress pants that fit me is like...impossible so I very rarely wear them (i.e. I haven't worn them since junior year of high school or so). I just don't understand where the style stemmed from; if your heels can't fit in normal heels with backs, shouldn't you just go up a size? How intrusive could a shoe back be? Case study: examples of shoes I would want to wear if they had backs (all from ebay, all ferragamo):
Thursday, April 24, 2008
Dude, I apologize that my blogs have been so serious recently. And by "serious" I mean have mostly been full of me complaining about my life. And by "my life" I mean school and finals. To be honest it's because my brain is like a feeble dam trying to hold back about a THOUSAND life crises (fail school, never get job, become homeless, end up alone forever, never get to have babies that wear Polo onesies 24/7, etc. etc.), which are threatening to burst forth AT ANY MOMENT. I've already called my mom on the verge of tears once today and I'm pretty sure if I force her to put down her gardening sheers and talk like a "parent" once again in the next 24 hours she'll lose it. Anyways, I solemnly swear to stop being so mopey and return to embarrassing myself thoroughly in [hopefully] funny ways. Starting immediately:
Last night my friend waxed my underarms. Dear god I wish I was joking. Background information: my friend is Indian (as in, from India, not a "First Nations Person," as American Indians are referred to here in the great white north) and obsessed with hair removal. She's like some sort of waxing wizard and has been telling me for weeks how I should do the at home wax thing. Because I am lazy, and live in Canada and have convinced myself that it's totally acceptable to be a hairy beast, I was like "sure sure" and forgot about it and continued to use my dull Venus razor, which does not in fact make me feel like a goddess but rather a contortionist in the shower trying to reach my ankles, which happen to be about five miles (37 inches) from my hips. ANYWAYS, she finally made me buy a tub of mint green wax in the drug store last week and after some semi-successful upper leg region waxing and about a week of wearing long sleeve shirts in the hot Montreal sun (yes, you read that correctly. here in Montreal it goes from stark winter to sweaty quebecers in the subway INSTANTLY) I was ready to tackle the underarms. Until I realized that it is freaking impossible for non-magicians to get a good angle on that shit. At which point my friend actually offered to do mine. I'm pretty sure that is a sign of a good friend; when they're willing to get all up in your pits for the improvement of societal welfare. Anyways, after about ten minutes of intense swearing and one "oh my god. am i BLEEDING?" I am happy to report that all is well and I totally recommend it. Unless you're are squeamish and don't tolerate pain well/are a sane rational human being.
CONCLUSION: Hair removal>undergraduate degree.
I have, previously, spent the entire night in the cafe I am currently studying in. It's open 24 hours and last year around this time, when I was convinced I was going to fail macroeconomics (and thus, life) I came here to study with a friend around 8pm and didn't leave until the next morning at 7am when I went home, brushed my teeth, and headed to campus to take my 9am final. What is it about finals that you can concurrently know that you need a certain amount of sleep to function and be smart and yet continuously take exams worth 50% of your grade on no sleep at all? I don't remember anything at all from my entire year of macro (eventually ended up with a B, thank god) but I could give you a complete plot summary of the House episode I watched to distract myself at 3am. Oy.
Wednesday, April 23, 2008
Next spring don't both taking your taxes to H&R Block or buying TurboTax or whatever. Just bring them to me. Because I know a ridiculous amount about all your deductions, credits (refundable and non), exemptions, and methods of tax avoidance. Seriously. Earning less that $20,000? Unmarried? Have a child? Step right up for you earned income tax credit. Married? Secondary earner? Need to know whether you should file separately or jointly to avoid the dreaded "marriage tax?" Just ask me. I've got you covered. Why? BECAUSE I'VE READ THIS ENTIRE FREAKING BOOK:
You really start to regret a purchase when it shows up as a "Don't" on "What Not to Wear." I bought the above Nicole Miller dress two summers ago on sale and have NEVER worn it. Then last week I was killing time with "What Not to Wear" and when the makoveree went to the Nicole Miller store she tried this dress on. Clinton and Stacy's response was "ewww it looks like a tablecloth!" I wouldn't normally take everything they say to heart but I'm thinking "never worn in two years" plus "tablecloth endorsement from WNTW" equals ebay auction.
Tuesday, April 22, 2008
Having to call the graduation gown company to fix your order because under the height column you checked the "Up to 5'11" box because you forgot you would be wearing heels. And then listening to the salesman on the phone, after correcting this to read "Up to 6'2,"discuss how being so tall must be useful for sneaking in an out of places.
Monday, April 21, 2008
- These Tory Burch flats. And the million knock offs that were created. For some reason I'm not enamored by scrunchy backs on ballet flats normally and this goofy gold breast-plate type thing is really not helping things. I saw a girl getting coffee yesterday wearing these with sweatpants. That's when you know that a trend has run its course.
- Sweater ballet flats? That say "JUICY" on the heel? With a big pom-pom on the toe? Too much of a combination of the following two pieces of "footwear:"
- I know mocking "Crocs" is like shooting fish in a barrel but the girl sleeping on the bench in the library (see post below) is wearing the flip flop kind. And I just can't let that slide.
Dear Fellow Library Patrons:
Congratulations on having made it this far in the semester and actually hunkering down and studying even though it's a balmy 72 degrees and sunny out. I understand all the dedication and commitment it has taken to get to this point, and how hard it is to actually sit down and read economics/history/bio-chemistry/whatever instead of playing beer pong on your fire escape or watching an entire season of "Skins" while eating an entire package of Life cereal straight from the box. However, just because being in library is number 83 on your "list of things I want to be doing right now" (if it's on there at all), does not mean that you are allowed to be obnoxious and distracting. This means none of the following:
- loud giggling
- watching youtube videos on your computer without headphones.
- laying down across the prime stretch of bench in the library's study area (where like three other people could sit) and taking a nap. you're tired, I know. we're all tired. I, however, am not tired enough to refrain from sitting on top of you and declaring that I had no idea you were there since your heinous ensemble blended in with the bench fabric.
- eating foods with really strong smells (good or bad).
- throwing your used kleenexes on the floor beside you (and I can't believe I'm even having to tell you that one).
- singing to yourself? that's just weird.
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
I recently started reading the sartorialist, after seeing his column in GQ all the time, and I'm really on the fence about it. On the one hand you get to see neat clothes (yes, I am aware that "neat" is no longer a trendy word but whatever, it's the only way I can think to describe the plethora of hipsterdom that marches across his blog), which totally appeals to my inner (and usually, outer) voyeur. On the other hand, the guy that writes it seems sort of douchey. He's that sort of "arrogant but I've deserved it" types, which is fine, I'm just not super good at hanging out with those people for more than brief stints at a time. Anyways, as unsure as I am about the guy in general, I'm really on the fence about this post, where he's orchestrating a girl's makeover. Now, very few people love a makeover more than I do. I come just short of staying in specifically on Friday nights to watch "What not to Wear," but am definitely passed being appeased by little makeover blurbs in magazines. Regardless of whether the girl actually needs a full blown makeover (I personally think a shoe swap and flat iron would have done the trick), is that really a photographer's domain? Does that cross the line of observation? I'm not sure, but I'll let you know when I fail my history exam because I've spent the three hours of test time trying to figure it out.
Monday, April 14, 2008
Okay, so New York Magazine apparently will not let you embed videos from them anymore (LAME). But I definitely need to reference this video because this is how a solid portion of people that attend my school dress themselves. I mean, I'm all for expressing your creativity through clothing, opposing 'the man,' and whatever. But this boy's outfit came from American Apparel, Urban Outfitters, and Nordstrom! And we're supposed to seriously believe that he's making all his money "selling his work on the street?" I'm a little suspicious.
Sorry I cut the side of this picture off; I was a little frantic do to my mounting overjoyedness. Okay, see how up there it says "1st Major Economics?" and then below it says "Recommendation Yes?" That means the economics department has actually agreed to free me from their cold, icy grip, and let me loose into the world! I mean, I wasn't cripplingly worried that they would say no; I've technically fulfilled all the requirements (although this also meant breaking about every registration rule in existence), but with bureaucracies you never know. Anyways, I'm going to go mentally skip around with glee while I physically read "Seeing Red: Federal Campaigns Against Black Militancy 1919-1925" for my upper level history ELECTIVE? Thank God I'm getting out of school now, my class picking abilities are only getting worse...
Saturday, April 12, 2008
First of all, I have the most pathetic immune system on the planet. I am constantly getting sick! Never anything horrible or deadly like cancer or diabetes or something, just really random, annoying ailments like metal allergies and achilles tendonitis and stuff. This problem is exacerbated that my dad is an emergency room doctor and skimming all his med school books as a child (serious daddy's girl) turned me into a major self diagnoser. The American Medical Association's website is bookmarked, okay? The thing is, I'm ALWAYS right. In the past two years I've diagnosed myself with hypothyroidism (check), my roommate with narcolepsy (check, and also kind of hilarious), among other random assorted ailments between myself and friends. Last night I diagnosed myself with (and this has been confirmed by a consult with my doctor father and the American Opometric Association)...BLEPHARITIS.
No, you didn't read that wrong, I said BLEPHARITIS (bleff-ah-rye-tis). It's when the area around your eyelashes gets irritated or something and it's made me look really hungover for the past couple of months; puffy bags under my eyes, dry skin in my eyelids, fugness all around. Apparently it goes away with hot compresses and daily washing with special eyelid wash (or baby soap) so today I bought these individually wrapped presoaped eyelid washing cloths (you have to use a different clean washcloth for each eye so I thought this would save on washing them) of which I will post a picture of me using later because I look fairly incredibly ridiculous. Anyways, my assignment for you, blogosphere, is to use the word "blepharitis" in a sentence today. It's not mandatory to use it for the correct purpose, you could for example say "I've been eying this new H&M dress, but that chartreuse color sort of scream blepharitis don't you think?" but I think it's definitely the sort of multi-syllabic-goodness that this world needs more of in its lexicon.
That's right. Never again will I attend an undergraduate university lecture. I'm done with classes! Today was technically the last day of classes, but mine was yesterday since I didn't have Friday class this lecture. All I had to do was sleep until noon and turn in a paper (which is exactly what I did). Being finished is a little bittersweet, but I'm too zenned out by the thought that the rest of my life is ahead of me to even worry about it. My last class yesterday was really nice. The professor was one who I've had three times (for separate classes, I didn't just fail one twice) and he ended the class with a really sweet mini-speech about how great our class was and how much he enjoyed teaching students at this university. As I was leaving the building, the professor who taught my microeconomics course freshman year, which was the very first lecture on my first day of classes, opened the door for me. It was one of those quiet little moments that remind you of the poetics of daily life. Unfortunately, I don't have time to revel in the importance of this milestone because I have finals! I should probably pretend that because of all the studying I'll be doing, the blog will be kind of slow but we all know that's a lie. Be prepared for "on location" posts from the library (soo exciting!).
Thursday, April 10, 2008
Holy crap. Go read this very brief article at nymag.com and then come back. Are you freaking out now? In what world is this acceptable? In what world do people find this unacceptable but still allow it to happen? EIGHT YEAR OLDS AND BIKINI WAXES? I know that for a long time mother-daughter bonding has been done over beauty rituals but this is ridiculous. I have no expertise in the way of child rearing, just the fact that I was a child once and have a brother almost eight years my junior, but I'm pretty sure that children require childhoods. My mom let me shave my legs once when I was like nine or ten and I strutted like a peacock for the week or so that the effect lasted. When my grandmother bought me a training bra before all the rest of my friends, even thought I was flat as a board (which would never change, unlike my friends who eventually blossomed. shut up karma), I reveled in that brief taste of adulthood. I wasn't allowed to get my ears pierced until my 11th birthday, or wear nail polish (muted pinks only) until that time either. Other than that maybe I followed a too-early time schedule for beauty regimens; shaving at 11, first [really ugly] highlights, makeup, and unsupervised piercing 12. But I did all of those things on my own initiative, because I was dying to be independent, not because my mother woke up one day and said "oh my god get this girl a lip liner." And as a result I grew out of all of it by the time I was fifteen; around the time it actually started to kind of matter how I presented myself. I lost interest in makeup, I never dye my hair, and I haven't worn earrings in my second hole for years. I think as long as you let girls explore those grown up beauty things when they show an interest, they'll develop healthy relationships with them later. Whenever I came to my mom, waving an article ripped out of Seventeen Magazine and screaming "I NEED FROSTED PINK LIPSTICK!" she calmly took the page, glanced it over, and the next time we were in Rite-Aid helped me pick out a tube of CoverGirl. She never gave me a lecture on how silly all that beauty stuff was, nor did she engage in a detailed beauty routine that she walked me through step-by-step and assured me was vital. Girls need to understand that those things are "optional," as much as they seem necessary today, and that the blank slate you start with is perfect just the way it is (cue cliche music).I know it's a "cold world" out there and women just wanted their daughters to be able to compete but how to cope with that is something every person has to learn on their own; shoving them into pre-fabricated adult molds won't help. What kind of adult does someone grow into who from the very beginning of adolescence thought they needed to be tweaked and improved?
Wednesday, April 9, 2008
I just wanted to say that it is 5:24pm and so far today NOTHING embarrassing has happened to me. I didn't slip down the stairs of my building, say something ridiculously wrong in class, nor get belittled by a Quebecois in the street. Now, I normal person would be like "what a great day!" but this has left me convinced that something secretly embarrassing has been going that I DON'T EVEN KNOW ABOUT! Did I singe of a piece of hair in the back with my straightener? Did I accidentally write on my cheek with pen? Did god send out a memo to the world to never ever give me a job because I'm a big joke? Because this simple, no-problems-as-of-yet day is simply too good to be true. I'm sure tonight I'll get publicly run over by a bicyclist or something, in which case I'll update my blog to let you know not to worry; all is still right in the world.
Tuesday, April 8, 2008
Today was the last day of some of my classes. This gets me a little misty eyed each semester and today was no exception. I love how after the last lecture everyone claps for the professor, even though it's a small token of appreciate I always feel choked up; both overwhelmed with gratitude for the people who have imparted their knowledge (and read my shitty last minute essays) and guilt for bitching about them incessantly during the semester. My actual last day of classes before finals begin is on Thursday and I can already tell it's going to be a tear jerker.
Fact: There are multiple websites that chronicle the yawns of celebrities. The above photo is from here and is of Jamie Oliver, my favorite celebrity chef (based purely on his adorableness, I don't know jack about cooking). Anyways, this yawn pretty much sums up my day, which has been one of those "hurry up and wait kind of days." Yesterday I frantically had to compile a project with Art of Schmoozing and then write a 15 page paper (which ended up being more like twelve but whatever) and then get up at 8:00 this morning to present the aforementioned group project. Now I just have to sleepily drift through the rest of my classes, turn stuff in, sit around, etc. etc. Although I have plenty of homework to work on tonight, it's most likely that after my last class at 5:30 (I'm pretending that I'm even going to make it that far) I will go home, take a nap, and watch "Felicity," only to continue to the late night homework cycle. Boring.
Saturday, April 5, 2008
Ugh. What I thought was just an unfortunate hangover this morning turned out to be a head cold (well, to be fair it was probably also a hangover). Although I dragged myself out of bed for taco dinner at a friend's, I'm now home in bed at 10 o'clock on a Saturday (woo. hoo). Besides that, I spent the day sleeping and watching tv on my laptop in bed. Because I'm sick I allowed myself to actually purchase a couple episodes on iTunes of shows that I had missed this week. First off was "New Amsterdam," a sort of "House" meets "Law and Order" with a little bit of "The History of New York" PBS series thrown in. Basically it's awesome and I love it. Next up was this week's episode of "Greek," which I will not even attempt to justify my liking of. Although I will say that even the snobbiest of television viewers would probably love the show if they just watched it on mute and stared at this boy the whole time:
I didn't have good timing with the pause button so the hotness is not in full force but SO SEXY. There could longer be a shred of doubt as to why he is in my free pass five. Also, the boy whose back of head is in that second photo is also super cute. I'm sure there will be a post on him later when I'm in full fledge sick mode.
Thursday, April 3, 2008
I know there are lots and lots of amazing clothes at J. Crew right now but this particular garment happens to fulfill all my favorite things for clothing, especially comfy/lounge clothing: is navy (pale girl, brown hair), argyle, three quarter length sleeves (is better for the lankiness), and has a hood (perfect for greasy hair cover up when needing to quickly run to the grocery store). All of this amazingness for only $80 (well, "only" in a comparable sense)? I'LL TAKE IT! Unfortunately, J. Crew will not allow me to do this because this item will not be available for shipping until JUNE 30th! That's so mean! I had a whole shopping cart filled with random stuff I definitely didn't need (Alert: J. Crew's sale stuff is an additional 30% off at the moment) and was so disgusted that this wasn't available that I'm not getting any of it. Cruel, cruel, cruel.
That, courtesy of www.weather.com, is today's current forecast for Montreal. ABOVE FREEZING! Even with windchill it's AT freezing! To all you non-tundra residents the fact that I'm so happy right now is probably incomprehensible but trust me, spend winter on this island-ice-box and 41 degrees will feel to you like a day at the spa.
Wednesday, April 2, 2008
Tuesday, April 1, 2008
This Saturday was my graduation ball, which was a bizarre event mostly because a)ball? I've been slumming around in uggs since November, b)I'm graduating early so none of my friends are in my class/will be attending and c)boyfriend? date? oops?
Fortunately it went better than expected due to: a set of hot rollers pilfered from my house over the summer, a guy friend that agreed to tag along, and, most importantly, the open bar. After spending the latter half of last week scrounging up a suit for my friend and squeezing myself into my old prom dress (collegiate diet of beer and pizza makes you gain weight? who knew?), I was totally ready to be ridiculous and go dancing. After an overpriced, yet tasty, dinner at a trendy restaurant with visiting thirteen year old brother, my date and I hopped in a cab and headed to Marche Bonsecours, a historic building in the Old Port area of Montreal, which I highly encourage you to google image because it is super beautiful:
After checking our coats we grabbed a couple of glasses of champagne from a waiter strolling around (so that's where my tuition dollars went...) and began mocking some of the girls in floor length tulle concoctions/animal print dresses AND fur stoles/mile high stilettos they were unable to walk in. Then the drinking began. I'll spare you a shot of what my date and I looked like after drinking 1 canadian club and coke, 1 martini, 2 gin and seven ups, 2 jack and cokes, and six glasses of champagne. Although I will say I was in the top 5 percentile of girls still able to walk in heels after drinking for all night. YAY COLLEGE!