Jet Lag, Customer Service, and A Potential Cry for Help.

To quote Iz, upon arriving at SFO international airport: "oh thank GOD for American men!"

And that about sums up my winter vacation.

Haha no I'm just kidding. Actually a ton of shiz happened that will probably span several posts, many of which probably won't end up being actually written. But just to keep myself accountable:

1. Korea. It's cold.

2. My grandparents' story.

3. The wrong restaurant.

4. Babies: sometimes they're kinda ugly.

5. Stanford. Four years later, nothing has changed.

6. Photoshop photoshoot.

7. Uncle Paddington and his countryside abode.

8. Shopping, shopping, and did I mention shopping? Plus mah hair.

9. My drunken uncles.

10. Chinese-style parking lot money-shoving fight.

There, that makes it seem a lot easier. So I got back yesterday around noon. After lunch I collapsed into my memory foam (the first time I've had a bed to myself in two weeks -- it was heavenly, I don't know how I'll ever stand being married) and knocked out for the rest of the year. I know, I'm a party animal.

Anyway, today I was much better thanks in part to the sixteen total hours of sleep I got the day before and in another part to a McDonald's iced coffee (diet commences when I return to school, I swear). So Iz and I went to the mall because I hadn't recklessly spent American money in a while finished my Secret Santa shopping yet. And that is where Iz Got Hit On By a Slightly Creepy Older Gentleman.

This is how it happened.

Iz and I were at one of those carts that they have in the middle of the mall, those mini-store things. We wanted to buy some of this $50 face-wash system thing but the guy was nowhere to be found. While we were waiting, this one guy from the cell phone stand next to it (like three feet away) came over and joked, "It's all free today!" While we were considering just taking the products and leaving $2 and a note ("we weren't sure how much it cost -- hope this covers it") when he added, "Nah, I think the guy stepped away for a second to use the restroom."

So we waited another few minutes. And then a few minutes more. Pretty soon it was coming up on fifteen minutes (Iz whispered, "This guy is taking a fat poop") when another one of the cell phone guys came over. He started making small talk in that way guys do when they're working up to a way to ask for a girl's number and these situations make me nervous so I wandered off under the guise of looking for a trash can in which to throw this little piece of paper I had on me. I know, I'm a terrible wingwoman/big sister.

Anyway, when I came back he was asking her what she does, and when she told him she was a comm major at UCSD he looked kind of surprised. Then he told her he had a journalism degree from University of Oklahoma (? some state like that) and that he spent six years working with the Air Force and that this mall job was just temporary while he was adjusting to his recent move to the Bay. Then he asked her for her number.

Oh my god that was the reason I avoid situations like that. It was so awkward while she just stood there going "mmm hmmm rmmm ehhh eeeh" until finally I totally butted in and was like "uhmm well she has a boyfriend" and then the guy just smiled real big and was like "well who said we have to go on a date? can't I just get your number?" And then it was more awkward and no one spoke until I said loudly, "Hmm, I wonder where the toy store is?" which was supposed to be a hint for Iz to be like, "oh, I know!" and lead us away but I don't think she got it because she just kept smiling politely and the guy kept waiting expectantly and I kind of blocked out the rest but I know we eventually left and the guy did not have a number to show for his efforts.

And then after we left Iz and I had the following conversation:

Me: Eek.

Iz: That was weird.

Me: Yeah, he's way too old for you.

Iz: Really? How old do you think he was?
Me: Well he graduated from college, right? And then he worked for the Air Force for six years? And then he moved back here? So he's probably like 30. And you look and act like you're 12.

Iz: He worked for the Air Force for six years?

Me: Uh, yeah. He mentioned that like twice.

Iz: Oh. I wasn't listening.

Me: Oh my god.

Iz: I feel bad. Maybe I should've given him my number.

So if anyone is looking for a pity date..

Anyway, that's that. Tomorrow I'm flying off to Los Angeles (the third plane I'll have been on in as many days) and luckily Maaron is picking me up from the airport so I won't have to drag my four pieces of luggage the mile between the Flyaway stop and my apartment. This marks the first time in four years that I've been picked up from LAX. I need more friends with cars am certainly very independent.

Independence occasionally has a drawback, however. Like tomorrow I am getting back to Los Angeles before any of my roommates or friends and I am slightly worried that a serial killer has been holed up in our empty apartment all break and I'll be the first one to discover him in three weeks and oh god he's going to cut my ears off. I am so serious about this that I am honestly considering asking Maaron to come up and check for monsters when he drops me off. But after that I'll deadbolt the door and I'll be fine, right? Right? Killers can't climb three stories onto a balcony and then break through the glass of double French doors and then track down the only occupant in the apartment in mere seconds by following her singing to the shower, right? RIGHT?

Okay, just making sure. I'm actually thinking it won't be that bad. The first day I moved into my apartment I was also unexpectedly left alone at night and I totally survived it and this was before the internet or cable was hooked up. Still, if you don't hear from me in a few days...

Guy Love.

Alright I lied. I'm totally back with a super long post but feel free to read this in a week if you're looking to pace yourself/can't stand my endless rambling two days in a row.

Today I met up with a bunch of my old friends and had lunch and realized that wow I am lucky. It might just be in comparison to some stuff going on in the rest of my life but it's still true, I've been pretty fortunate on the whole friendship front. And of course I have great girl friends too, but today I'm really grateful for my guy friends. We're not as close now, so it's not like something happened recently to ignite this feeling or anything, but back in high school and even the first few years of college when we all saw each other more often than twice a year, these guys were awesome.

And even now I have really strong guy friendships in my life. I usually find myself telling them more than I would tell a girl, just because I know my guy friends are less likely to repeat things and because they can give me the guy perspective on what I'm telling them, which unfortunately is usually about some other guy screwing up my life.

So that's something: if I have all these awesome guy friends in my life, guys who are thoughtful and kind and respectful and smart, why do I so often end up messing around with someone who is ... the opposite of that? Ah, but even I know it's not as black and white as that. Of course, my guy friends are thoughtful and kind and respectful and smart to me, but that's because we are just friends. They don't make it a habit of showing me their mean, petty, rude sides, just like I don't yell at them sleep with them or expect them to tell me I'm pretty (it's actually kind of weird when they comment on my appearance -- although that's not a discouragement, guys -- I'm sure if you keep complimenting I'll get used to it). So maybe it's not right to judge it like that, but now that we're strangely and slowly growing up, I've been able to see these friends get girlfriends and from what I can tell, they haven't suddenly transformed into beasts or anything like that.

Take my old friend Stuffin for example. We used to actually be really good friends, but college and new friends and significant others have distracted from that. We were pretty close in high school though, and he was like a brother to me and Iz. When we still lived near him he used to pick us up all the time when we were meeting up with friends, and one Christmas he went with me to pick out a Christmas tree because my parents were too busy to do it. He carried the tree into our living room and, while I was calling my mom with the good news ("I bought a tree! I bought a tree! It's in our living room now!") he found a broom and dustpan and was sweeping all the stray Christmas tree needles up. One year when I came home for summer, my flight was scheduled for when my parents were at work so he offered to pick me up. I joked that I'd always wanted to be greeted at the airport with balloons and when he got me he brought along those cute little balloon on a stick things. And if you guys think that is being a good friend, then imagine how he must be as a boyfriend, because he treats his girlfriend a thousand times better than that.

Or my friends Laycon and Mango (back when Mango and I had only ever been friends). One week in my second year in college I was really sick. It was probably the worst (non-alcohol related) illness I'd ever had in college -- the accompanying cough lasted half a year, if that gives any indication to just how badly I felt like dying that week when it was at its worst. Anyway, when my neighbors Laycon and Mango heard I was threatening to jump out my window just to put myself out of my misery, they rushed over. And I lived on the fourth floor, which just shows what good friends they were. The jump wouldn't even have killed me. But anyway, Laycon came with a water heater and made me like thirty cups of tea, and I don't remember what Mango brought (probably nothing) but I do remember that I was already kinda starting to like him back then so I was WRACKED WITH AGONY both because my lungs were like 75% phlegm but also because I looked horrible, like unbrushed-hair-runny-nose-glasses-puffy-eyes horrible.

So when Mango knocked on my door, I opened it like half an inch and peered out like that crazy lady whose yard the neighborhood kids aren't allowed to go in.

"Yes?" I said.

"Hi," he said, trying to look through the door. "How are you feeling?"

"Terrible." I said.

"Can I come in?" he asked.

"No, I look so disgusting."

"But we haven't hung out in a while."
"I know, but if you see my face we will never hang out again because you'll be like oh god she's ugly."

"Okay, you know I wouldn't say that."

"You might."

"Carolyn..."

"We can chat, but you can't look at my face."

"Are you serious?"

"Yes."

And this is how we had a thirty minute conversation wherein Mango's eyes were glued to the floor the entire time. Once he interrupted what I was saying with a frantic "Sorry!" and I was like, "What?" and he was like "I accidentally saw your foot" and I felt kind of like I was in a Victorian novel. And it was cool, because I love Victorian novels.

So, with these examples of Good Guys in mind, comes the age-old question: "so why are girls attracted to jerks?"

And, as is usually the case when we have these difficult to resolve questions, it is time for...

DUMDUMDUMDUM

A Panel

Question of the Day: Why are girls so ridiculously and stupidly attracted to jerks?

For this question I was totally fair and asked three boys and three girls, but it was unanimous: everyone agreed that girls seem to like jerks more than nice guys.

Then the big question was: why? Are we just stupid? Or is there actually a reason that we gravitate toward guys who make us wish we could shrink really small and crawl inside their heads so we can kick their brains?

Well, I got a variety of answers to my questions but they were very interesting and probably true.

Almost all the boys said that they felt jerks got more girls because they were more confident or outgoing.

To quote Laycon, "bad boys make girls hot, good boys make good friends; nice guys are usually more timid and reserved and don't give off sex appeal."

Hmm.. I don't know if I can attest to this. There must be some limit to the "bad," right, because I know I definitely don't find convicts attractive. Orange really doesn't do it for me. But it is true, when you meet a nice, quiet guy you immediately think aww it would be so cool if we could be friends. Unless there's like incredible magical chemistry, in which case you think aww it would be so cool if I could jump his bones. No? Justs me? Okay, moving on.

My friend Tard thinks confidence is the dealmaker also, he said, "Jerks tend to not care what they do, which shows confidence. They're more hotheaded and less cautious, which is exciting."

Hmm I don't know about that either. I find careless guys nerve-wracking and I really like even-headed guys who stay calm through all types of situations because to be honest if anyone's gonna overreact IT'S GONNA BE ME OKAY? And also, there's that one quintessential "bad boy" thing about having a motorcycle, which I've never really found that attractive. I don't know why, I'm not against it and I could see how it could be a potential turn on for girls but I have just never met anyone who personified it. Maybe I'm just lazy and like to sit in cars with the luxuries of radio and a/c. Or maybe I should stop picturing old bearded men on Harleys when I think "motorcycle."

Iz asked Poops the same question and his answer was so awesome I have to quote it directly:

Poops: Girls like jerks more because they are more outgoing.

Iz: so.. what are you [I knew she would get sidetracked; note: Iz not a good investigative reporter]

Poops: I'm in between

Poops: Nice guy in the beginning

Poops: Jerk in the end

Iz: PUHlease no you're not

Poops: PEACE

Poops: YOU FELL FOR ME WOMAN

Of course, the girls had their own opinions about the matter.

Whenever paneling comes up Iz sets aside her oversized novelty stationery and her habit of pluralizing every single word (Iz speak: everys singles words) and tries to sound like an intelligent 20 year old instead of a toddler who has developed really, really slowly. Like slowly to the point where the parents are flying to specialists around the country. Anyway, here's what she had to say:

Iz: The mean behavior can be addicting for those who aren't experienced yet. It's like they'll be a jerk and then they'll be super nice to you and the contrast makes you get addicted to them more.

Me: What if you are experienced?

Iz: Hm... then it might be hot for a while. But that's it. Being a jerk is a pretty big turn off.

Amen.

Teenie: It's a pride thing. At first girls are like "how dare you not treat me like a princess?!" and then they get intrigued. You're drawn to him because you want to win him over. Or maybe it's the sad fact that guys who are jerks know that they have something going for them, and hence they can afford to be a jerk? It's like, goddamnit you're such an asshole but I'd like to jump your bones anyway.

Hm... I am familiar with that phenomenon. Does this contradict my agreement with what Iz said? Now you see why my life is so confusing.

Meema: The thing is, if a guy is really nice, he can easily be put on the Friend Ladder. Because he's friendly and non-provoking. Attraction needs a little danger sometimes, something to excite. If he's nice and NOT boring, then it's a much better situation. But that's hard to find often.

So it seems like the conclusion is that interestingness(?) in a guy is more important than niceness. Which blows, but might possibly be true. The funny thing is that while it seems that everyone agrees girls go for the jerks, it's not really holding true in my personal experience. I mean, I admit I've gone through the phase of being interested in the kind of guy who can roll a joint drunk and in the dark but isn't sure what, exactly, a library is for. That was called high school. But now I am a completely mature and independent woman who totally knows what she wants in life and would never ever again hook up with a guy who thinks it's okay to refer to a girl as a stupid bitch as long as he assured her he was joking afterwards ("it means I love you, baby"). Right?

And not to get all disgusting and sentimental right here but to come full circle -- it's my guy friends (remember that topic?) who usually remind me that hey, I might get my heart broken or at least fairly insulted by jerks but it's the nice guys who will listen and okay, they might not go hunt down and kill anyone for me, but they can definitely make me dinner and tell me I'm pretty (this is a surprisingly effective cure for sadness). And, in the last year, no one's been better at that for me than Mango.

So, for his birthday (he's turned 20 today, prime Spongebob-watching age) --

10 Reasons I Love Mango

10. He doesn't care that I often plaster his personal life all over my blog, usually including pictures of him in strange poses.

9. He knows me (scarily) well, which is a plus because sometimes it's nice to be understood and not completely misjudged. For example, when we went whale-watching at Newport Beach we were sailing out of the harbor(?) and there were all these beachfront mansions and I saw this set of three. The first mansion was this big modern one, where all the walls were made of glass. The second one was this really cute Victorian-esque sunbeamy yellow thing with white trim. The last one was Grecian, I guess, it was white marble with big tall pillars. Anyway, I pointed the trio out to Mango and said, "So when you get super rich, which one are you going to buy me?" And he looked at them and was like "the third one" and I was like "OH MY GOD HOW DID YOU KNOW" and he just kind of rolled his eyes and was like "well duh, I know you."

8. He knows me, and still sticks around. He may be one of the only people on earth who can handle me when I'm in one of my moods. Usually he's the only one within kicking distance (I wonder why..) but when it strikes, he usually kind of just sits through it until I've let off all my steam and then he'll look at me all calmly and say, "well, you know I'll love you no matter what." And if you can continue being mad after something like that you're a much more willful woman than I am. Also he sometimes has candy.

7. He always shares his candy.

6. He makes me dinner at ridiculous times like 4:30 PM because I never have time for lunch and then when I get hungry again around 10 PM he not only doesn't mock me for eating so late, he will order food with me and then go pick it up from downstairs when the delivery guy comes. And then afterwards when I complain about how fat I am he will only agree a little.

5. I can wear my baggy sweats and a lumpy sweatshirt and my dorky glasses around him and he'll be like "you pull that look off well" and then I'll stop mentally freaking out that I'm the grossest person in the world.

4. He always takes my side.

3. When I promise we'll hang out and then I come over and fall asleep for four hours on his bed and then wake up and say "I'm sleepy, I'm gonna go home" he will walk me and not complain that technically we didn't actually do anything fun.

2. When he walks me home and there's no one in my apartment at like 2 AM he always checks for monsters and will wait for me to shower because he knows I get scared when it's late and dark and the apartment is empty and I have to shower because what if I open the door when I'm done and THERE IS A MASKED MURDERER SITTING ON MY BED? This is an honest, real fear of mine. Sometimes the murderer is wearing an animal head.

1. He is my best buddy.

Well that's that. I'm leaving for Korea tomorrow so if you don't hear back from me please send former President Clinton over there asap. But if all goes well I should be in Taiwan by Saturday around noon, and Saturday around one PM I will probably have overdosed from pearl milk tea. Barring that though, I will take a lot of pictures and report back and I swear that I will actually do it. Not like that time with Hawaii. Haha. Remember that? Good times.

This Post is Gonna Be So Long You're Going to Be Sick of My Writing for a Good Three Weeks so Yay! It All Works Out.

Remember me? I'm sorry. I know -- yes, you have every right to be angry. It's just that things have been so hectic, and then -- of course I care about you, how can you ask that? I know I promised to write on -- but you should understand that they needed me to -- you know, have you ever thought that maybe it's you? Yeah, I said it. Maybe you're just not supportive enough and I couldn't feel like I could talk to you. So instead of pointing fingers, maybe you should take a long, deep look within yourself and -- oh, don't cry. Here, let's just call it even and forget everything, okay? And maybe make me a sandwich? Great, you're the best.

And that's how I would apologize if I were a boy.

But anyway, hello. Apparently I have this tradition (I'm going to call it a tradition instead of an unfortunate habit because that is the kind of denial positive thinking I am capable of) of not writing for a really long time and then feeling bad and putting up a ridiculously long and nonsensical post right before I leave the country.

So yeah, I'm leaving the country! My flight out is this Thursday, right after Mango's birthday tomorrow (happy birthday fool). It's like a fourteen hour flight to Korea (I wish so hard that I was exaggerating right now) and we'll be there for two to three days before making the shorter flight over to Taiwan. I'm not scared of flying at all, but sometimes I get a little claustrophobic in the stale cabin when it's going on hour eleven and my legs feel cramped no matter how much I am intruding into the personal space of the passenger in front of me, and I've already gone through the Sky Mall magazine twice, and made a third attempt to eat the congealed lasagna in front of me and OH GOD IF I DON'T GET OUT OF HERE I'M GOING TO THROW UP OR SHOOT MYSELF. Usually I just play the most soothing music I have and try to fall asleep. Sometimes I throw up.

So anyway, there's that to look forward to. I don't really know what I've been up to the last two weeks. I've definitely been enjoying my student pass to all the UCLA basketball games, and that might have something to do with all the tall, good-looking athletic guys because it sure isn't our 3-6 record that keeps me enthralled. Anyway, our student section is called The Den (because we're Bruins -- isn't that cute?) and they pass out a newsletter kind of thing at the beginning of each game debriefing us about who the opponent is. And there's this section called "The Dirt" where they trashtalk the other team and oh my god look at this one from a little while ago:

It's like they're personally attacking me. Also I'd like to meet this AJ guy. Also I don't know why my Paint made that stupid white erasey mark. Life hates me today and GUESS WHAT THE FEELING IS MUTUAL. Okay I might be PMSing (I bet you guys are like omg why does this girl get her period every other week? but sometimes it's not that, sometimes I'm just a bitch).

Also I spent a lot of time studying and a lot of time playing video games. Speaking of which, Mango has gotten into the habit of complaining that I've become "too girly." His comments are based on the dual facts that I occasionally roll some glitter around my eyes and that I seem to fall into an unbreakable kind of trance anytime I approach a store that even remotely looks like it could be selling some sort of clothing.

This second thing is nothing new though, if you have ever shopped with me you should know this. It's like I am some sort of homing device. The second I spot something of interest I will completely zone out my surroundings and make a beeline for whatever has caught my eye. I often lose my shopping companions by doing this. But it's not my fault they can't keep up, it's not like there's a rule against running in malls. I should know. But I guess it can be disconcerting to the people who accompany me; one second we are having a perfectly pleasant conversation about whether or not it is acceptable to wear black and brown together (it is not), and the next thing they see is a somewhat possessed gleam in my eye before I take off sprinting. Sometimes I don't return for days.

This is why I am looking so forward to shopping in Taiwan. It's like one huge Ross except everything is aimed at young women who like cute things oh my god it's heaven.

Well I mean there's also a lot of weird shiz. Like I remember when I went back years ago there was this really popular chain of stores decked out in bright neon lights that my childish eyes were immediately attracted to which would be a good marketing strategy except that the name of the store was "CONDOM WORLD" and they only sold one product (three guesses what it is -- although I'm sure there were many, many varieties of that one product).

Also trendy when I was last in Taiwan were black blinged out tshirts showing a giant middle finger wearing like three rings with silver chains around the wrists. And the silver chains were actual metal chains hanging off the tshirt. So it's really more of a pick-and-choose market.

But that was a long time ago. So long, in fact, that Iz and I weren't yet allowed to wear nail polish (I know, insanity right?) whereas this time I plan to bring back a small suitcase filled solely with metallic and sparkly bottles of awesome. Jesus, maybe Mango is right.

Something else I want to do in Taiwan is streak my hair purple and get a tongue ring. Only one of these will be accomplished, and I'll give you a hint as to which one -- my parents like the color purple much more than they like punching holes into any part of the body that is not an earlobe (and even then it gets at least three disapproving clicks of the tongue). I'm trying to console myself by thinking about how I can get my ears re-pierced (this is how lazy I am -- I lost two of my earrings and didn't put in more studs for months and then when I tried: lo and behold, piercings heal, and now I just have one piercing left [if you're good at math or at least didn't get flunked out of remedial addition then you know I was supposed to have three piercings] so I'm like some sort of weird lopsided earring pirate... you know, like instead of having one eye I just have one piercing? okay never mind) and so I can finally wear cute earrings again and Iz will stop asking if the one piercing I have is "on the gay side."

So there's that.

Since we're going to Korea and none of us know anything about Seoul except that all the girls have cancer and all the boys are in love with someone who is actually their biological sister separated from birth (unless you're saying Korean dramas aren't an accurate indicator of the country's societal norms?), my mom asked if I could look something up online so that we don't get lost and never return or accidentally purchase a life-size cow made of solid gold that costs more than our house in America is worth.

So then I googled something like "korea tourist guide" and the first result was for the wikitravel article on South Korea and I was very happy because I love wikipedia and then the second search result caught my eye and it was the wikitravel article on NORTH KOREA. So naturally I had to click that one first and this is what I found:

Click to enlarge and you better do it because look how hard I worked

Isn't that awesome and weird? And terrifying?

And then I went to the Seoul page and found out I would not be entirely safe in the south either:

I'm a little nervous about my trip.

Speaking of angry, it's come to my attention lately that certain people who will remain unnamed think that I am a really angry but well-dressed person who is sincere about wanting to stab everything in sight. So I feel like I should clear this up, and not just for future litigation purposes: I only want to stab half of what I talk about stabbing. Are we good now? Okay. I tried to explain to these people (actually it was just one but I don't want to single this person out but then I was like well I don't want people to think that there is just like a horde out there who doesn't understand me so yeah it's just one person) that "it's just my writing style" and the person was like, very skeptically, "I've never heard of the writing style stabby" and I was like "well maybe you should spend more time reading and less time suggesting I look into anger therapy, yeah?" And then we ended our conversation in a completely civil manner that involved no bloodshed. See how suppressed mature I am?

Okay so I'm grouchy and don't know what to wear tomorrow and my feet are cold and my cramps feel like a stampede of thirty pound centipedes wearing soccer cleats are doing a jig in my stupid UNNECESSARY uterus so I'm going to leave before anyone reading this gets too alarmed and tries to come put me down before I can cause any damage to my immediate vicinity.

One last thing. Happy 20th birthday to my favorite tropical fruit even though I'm slightly allergic to it:

This blog loves you and dinosaurs. More dinosaurs though.

What I'm Grateful for This Year.

1. Predictable Thanksgiving blog posts.

2. Tuesday nights.

3. Sparkly eye make up that makes me look like a fairy on crack.

4. A "feminist" sister who manages to turn all her school papers into dissertations on Perez Hilton.

5. Parents who still think of us as princesses.

6. Boys who don't get angry.

7. Fuzzy pink boots and metallic wristlets.

8. Having the ability to help the sweetest, cutest children in the world (or at the very least in Watts).

9. Only having to go through two quarters of the 33% fee increase before graduation (this one is also on my parents' list).

10. Pineapple guava juice and pineapple mango body butter.

11. Strange (and sometimes stupid) music.

12. Your face.

Happy holidays, fools. Be safe, drink a lot, and stay off the road.

If I'm This Scattered Writing a Blog Post You Can Imagine How My Final Papers are Going.

Where are you on a Thursday night? I hope you are out at a club trying to pick up a hot guy/girl or downing jagerbombs at a bar because I am sitting at Laycon's desk wearing Mango's monkey hat (see picture) and trying to do an essay about Romeo and Juliet while listening to music that kind of makes me want to kill myself.
Not me. I was too lazy to take a picture so I found one on Google. She looks a little too serious considering her get-up. Also I don't have the gloves but now I know what to get Mango for Christmas this year.

This is vaguely maddening not just for the obvious reasons but also because I thought I was done with high school. I'm so over 14 year olds thinking they are in love and dragging the whole fair city of Verona into their teenage drama. I mean if I can't tell at 21 whether or not I'm anywhere near love then how can a couple of tweens? Anyway, I'm not sure if I'm low on sleep or vegetables or some other integral lifestyle element (cupcakes?) but I'm so distracted today there's no way I can get myself to string 2478 words together in a cohesive manner. A few minutes ago Mango looked over from where he was studying on his bed to find me looking in the closet mirror and squeezing the monkey ears on my hat.

I think I need more animal clothing.

Anyway, I was trying to at least appear to be productive by doing my psych reading and highlighting in lieu of actually processing any words when I came across a sentence too alarming to be glanced over.

"Mortality rates from all causes of death are consistently higher among the unmarried than the married. Unmarried and more socially isolated people have also manifested higher rates of tuberculosis, accidents, and psychiatric disorders such as schizophrenia."

Oh my god you guys. I am at risk for tuberculosis. Isn't that what Nicole Kidman died from in Moulin Rouge? This is just all bad because I don't want to be a hooker or dead or Ewan McGregor's love interest. No I take that back. Ewan McGregor is fine but I don't want to be the love interest of that whiny poet he played in the movie. I mean I'm all for the destitute Parisian lifestyle of the bohemian author but when he THREW THE MONEY AT HER AT THE END? I WAS ENRAGED.

Okay well I guess technically I'm not "socially isolated" but I am unmarried and this paper makes that sound like some bad shiz. And I mean it's not like I have anything against marriage and I'm definitely way too young for that but I don't know anyone who I would even remotely want to spend forever with. Although it looks like I should be less nitpicky if I don't want to die an early death.

I can't believe how quickly this quarter is ending. It's just me getting closer to being homeless, jobless and out on the street so I guess it's pretty natural that I feel like time is flying. This week is basically over and then I'm only here for two days next week, and when I come back from Thanksgiving there's only two more weeks before I peace out of L.A. for practically a whole month. And then it's off to Korea and Taiwan and if I don't kill myself because I'm a size XXL there then I'll have lots of pictures and adventurous stories for you all when I return.

I'm sure you guys can gather from this little blog that my life is pretty boring so it probably won't come as a surprise when I tell you the most exciting thing that happened this week was when the cutest guy in my class told me he liked my backpack. I was very pleased because a) he has good taste and b) he was talking to me. Also c) I was dressed very cutely that day. And I especially loved the way he said it because he spoke very quietly and kind of shyly and made speical mention of the bows I'd glued to like every available surface. Later on when I shared the good news with the Y she suggested that maybe he was gay. I denied this possibility. And then today when I told Aarow he had the same reaction. I mean I guess they could be right but I have my doubts because of the way he dresses and how scruffy he looks.

It's not really about him though. It just reminds me that I adore shy guys that aren't groomed to within an inch of their lives and when they're all nice it makes my heart go bumpbump and makes me stutter and then I'm shy and then we never speak again because both of us are too mortified to approach the other. And this is why I'm going to get tuberculosis.

I Totally Take Back What I Said About Pictures Being Easier to Blog.

Hello hello. So I realized that I'm going to have four papers due within a span of about seven days for a total of maybe forty pages? Of original thought. So that sucks. Anyway, I'm going to save all my words for schoolwork so here are some pictures courtesy of my iPhone and Microsoft Paint.
Not sure what this guy was doing on campus. Not giving out free samples, that's for sure. I checked.

So for Jenn's birthday we went to Medieval Times and it was awesome because I'm pretty sure that makes me a princess. A classy one, as you can tell from our napkin menu bill of fare.
That guy is our host/chancellor. He was tall and pretty good looking and there were a bunch of girls there who'd been patronizing the bar and they were flocking around him like crazy. I wasn't one of them. Just to clear that up. I did bring a flask though (not pictured).
They had these knights assigned to each section. Ours was yellow. He lost though.
Probably no explanation necessary.


On Jenn's actual birthday her boyfriend and sister and best friend brought over some ice cream cake. For some reason we let the Y put the candles on.



At the basketball game last week Mango pointed out how they seemed to have buffed up Joe Bruin over the summer. We think they just stuffed extra padding onto the original costume. Either that or steroids.

Oh my goshhh so when we entered Pauley at the start of the game they had these raffle slips for students to fill out, and there was one that if you were chosen you could try to make these shots during halftime to win prizes. AND THEY PICKED MANGO! And he totally refused to go up, even though they broadcast his name like thirty times and had it up on the big screen and everything. He's so going to regret this forever.

Aren't these cute? If anyone ever has to give me a perishable token of their affection I hope it comes in puppy form.

That's all. I hope you enjoyed this because it seriously took me forever to get these pictures to this level of awesome and then I kept accidentally deleting shiz and I was this close to just throwing my computer out the window but instead I powered through it like a real trooper. You're welcome.

Now This is Love. I Think. Well At Least I Know I Want an Infinity Pool When I Grow Up.

So if the topic of early 2000s tv shows has ever come up in conversation between you and I, you may already know this: I'm like obsessed with The O.C. Yeah, I know. But the thing about it is it's a really strangely specific obsession. Let me take you through the history of this love affair.

I didn't watch The O.C. when it was on tv. I was in middle school for the most of it and I was totally anti-pop culture back then. Like, I made it a point to avoid popular things because I was cool like that. Actually I think I was a way cooler person back then. Because now I am blogging about a tv show that ended three years ago. Where was I?

Right. So how do I say this... the show has been over since 2006, there were 4 seasons and (only) 92 episodes, and yet I haven't finished the series yet. I started watching in 2006.

Yeah..

So the weird thing about my long-term relationship with The O.C. is that I totally love it but I don't go near it unless I am going through traumatic life-changing experiences. Time for a timeline? Why yes, yes it is.

Timeline of Carolyn's Longest Relationship To Date
End of 2006/beginning of 2007: My love affair with The O.C. begins. I had started college and was dealing with all of the unfamiliarity (what is frat row and why does it always smell like pee?), on top of which I had just broken up with my high school boyfriend (what do you mean you joined a frat? also, what is it with you guys and pee?) I get through maybe the first or second season before I find out that college is fun and also, finals? Yeah, does not leave a lot of time for plowing through a teenage drama.

End of 2007/beginning of 2008: It's winter break and all my friends are out of town for a week, so I rekindle my friendship with Ryan, Seth, Summer and Marissa. Then my real friends come back and I leave those four somewhere near the end of Season 2.

Summer 2008: This on/off relationship is definitely on. I'm in England (Cambridge, to be specific) for a 5 week study abroad program, and apparently it rains a lot here. In between classes I introduce my floormate to the wonders of Orange County and we begin from the beginning. We get the furthest yet -- to the middle of the third season. Yeah, did I mention it rains a lot?

Summer 2009: Ah, present day. I have a lot of off time because my job hates me and tries to cut my shifts so I don't get paid the astronomical amount of $9.75 an hour. I gravitate back to my old habit, spurred on by the dread inherent in the knowledge that in a few short days I will be back in my hometown, living under my parents' roof and all my fun will be limited to what is technically thought of as "legal." Yet at this juncture I'm feeling a strange reluctance, and I realize that my slow progression through this show could be attributed to the fact that I'm completely in denial that this show has ever ended.

?: I finish all 92 episodes of The O.C. and realize that I have nothing to live for any longer. No, I don't have issues. I guess the point of this entire post is just that, uhm, well... okay yeah I was just procrastinating. I only have four episodes left, I have to do something to delay time.

Presenting: My Talents as a Life Coach.

Mango has gone off to Oregon and Canada and other northern places and it is very sad. I knew it would be sad, which is why I decided to be awesome and proactive and formulate a plan of attack on these unfortunate circumstances. These are the steps I took in the order I took them:

Step 1. Mope around while contemplating my hungry and lonely fate upon Mango's departure. Suggest to Mango that he should stay.

Step 2. Reluctantly reassure Mango that he should go and that I would try to eat dinner every day, or at least heat up my leftovers from lunch, or at least have lunch.

Step 3. Frantically make as many plans as possible because honestly, if I am here by myself who will I sacrifice to the murderer while I make my escape?

Step 4. Have a dinner/sleepover with Meema. Just kidding about the murderer, Meema.

Step 5. Watch The Diving Bell and the Butterfly and Across the Universe.

Step 6. Sleep soundly knowing that another potential victim a good friend is sleeping in the same apartment.


The plan went as well as could be expected. I have created a table of what worked and what didn't as a useful reference to anyone looking to adapt the plan for their personal use.

What Successfully Cheered Me Up
1. Meema's roommate is this little white girl who spends all day playing games like Counterstrike online, and while I was there I was lucky enough to witness her yelling at the screen about flashbombs and moving in on the enemy. It was awesome, after the initial startlement when I first heard her shriek, "I'M BLINDED. I'M BLINDED. COVER ME."

2. When Meema and I went to get donuts after dinner the man in front of us in line was buying in bulk and left us $3 to use as a thank you for waiting. This paid for my pink Homer donut.

3. The male lead in Across the Universe is really good looking in that artistic, brooding, way-too-good-for-Evan-Rachel-Wood way. This made the movie enjoyable. Also the music was good.

4. Meema has like 30 colors of nail polish and enough patience to do my nails for me. This has the dual effect of making her a good friend and my nails beautiful.

What Failed at Cheering Me Up
1. The Diving Bell and the Butterfly? Not a feel-good movie. Who would've thought that a movie about a once-successful editor who had a stroke at age 42 and became locked-in, able to use only his remaining functional body part (left eyelid) to dictate a book through blinks and then dying days after it's published could be depressing? Now you know. You're welcome.

2. I was really enjoying Across the Universe up until the part where they got into that psychedelic bus and then I felt like I was tripping out on acid for the rest of the movie. I guess that was the effect the moviemakers wanted, and also it was like 2 AM so my brain was too tired to combat their manipulations. Plus I don't like Evan Rachel Wood because I do not find her attractive and she stole Marilyn Manson from Dita Von Teese which is probably actually doing Dita Von Teese a favor but still it's the principle of the matter. This made the movie not enjoyable.

I hope the results of my painstaking research will be of help to you in the future. If you would like to thank me please come guard my apartment against murderers.