Wednesday, November 10, 2010
The Last Co-op Party: A Review Well, since I'm in State College, I obviously had nothing better to do this weekend besides attend another "super creatively themed" get-together at the Co-op. I arrived at about 11:00 pm, with Nate Oakes and Sarah Fay. Here's how it went: HIGHLIGHTS: Will Subler was there, sporting a slick new haircut. Later, Will met an elvish girl who probably went to Delta and got her phone number. Though she had already made out with two other men before Will caught her attention, she seemed pretty charmed by him and also met the difficult height requirement for Will's love interests of "has to be shorter than Will." I have high hopes for this one, folks, I'll keep you posted as things progress! Carlo Sica wasn't there. Corey did not d.j. At 3:00 am, it turned back into 2:00 am, so in a way I only wasted three hours of my night, instead of four. LOWLIGHTS: I had to pay three dollars to get into a BYOB party. Although it was obvious by the evidence of a strong scent that stuffing was somewhere in the house, nobody was sharing. Elitist vegan bastards. (What do you stuff it into if you're anti-meat?!) I guess I paid three dollars to make that Justin kid feel better about himself by locking people out of his bedroom who had no interest in going in in the first place. Money well spent IMO! LOL! I really had to pee, but the pantry/bathroom had a hefty waiting list, so I exited out the side door to utilize the restroom in the other building. This lead to two unfortunate occurances: I ran into a glass door, severely damaging the bridge of my already-unsightly Polish nose. Four days after the fact, it is still black and blue. Gross! After I managed to open aforementioned transparent door, I was greeted, or rather denied by an androgynous, overweight person in a typical co-op resident condescending way, informing me that "there are no party-ers in this house,and no, I could not use the bathroom!" I'm going to say this person was a girl just for the sake of being able to use the gender-specific description of "huge bitch" to convey "her" attitude towards me. I suppose I can understand not wanting to be bothered by drunks at my place of resident, but I also keep these feelings in mind when choosing NOT to live in cooperative housing known for frequent parties. It's these wise decisions that I believe have contributed to me not becoming an overweight androgynous bitch. I'd like to say I've learned my lesson and won't go to another one of these overpriced, glorified "stopping to chat with alterna-teens at Websters who won't give you booze" type events, but I mean, I'll probably be at the next one. Sigh. - Lauren Bala (formally known as orcplow)
Tuesday, October 19, 2010
We went to Altoona, Pennsylvania last week to go thrifting (much like shopping but for clothes that people have already worn!). The place we went is called "Salvation Army" which is much like a GoodWill, except with three more syllables. I woke up at the crack of dawn (11AM) slightly hung over from all the whippets I did the previous night at a co-workers birthday party, sporting the same yoga pants along with an over-sized sweatshirt that had been given to me the night before by a so-called friend (I will call him "Ronald" for the sake of anonymity), perfect attire for a rainy day in Altoona. Or so I thought. (I say this because later on the way back to State College I find that there is a large undefinable scum crusted on the inside hood of Ronald's seemingly innocent sweatshirt. I thank the heavens above for buying another over-sized shirt at Salvation Army and put it on, cursing Ronald and vowing never to associate with him again!) Walking up the stairs, I notice an empty Sugar-free Redbull perched on the coffee table in my townhostel. I pick it up and find that it's empty.. I begin crushing the can with my bare paws, enraged that someone dared to drink my LAST redbull of the 24-pack (THAT WAS 22 DOLLARS AT GIANT). I look to the left of the table and find my pack of Marlboro's. I rush to smoke a cigarette -- finally a vice that can alleviate the whippets. My last cigarette. My only cigarette. I open the crushed pack to find *someone* has smoked it. They have sabotaged me. I contemplate breaking windows and throwing pillows, but I know that nothing good will come of it. Instead I make an executive decision to hold my frustrations until I can get attention from Tom and Elizabeth, who are waiting outside for me. I greet the groggy couple and slouch in the backseat, all the while sighing incredibly loudly and shaking my head back and forth, waiting for them to ask me what's wrong. Only they never do. Tom starts playing Big Willy Style on the CD player, Elizabeth is consumed by road rage. I am alone, and the Will Smith record is so loud that no one could even hear me if I tried to complain. When the music finally ceased, I begin to unveil my plight of the redbull and cigarettes, how *someone* is trying to take the only things that matter from me. Elizabeth suggests that we go to the store to collect my items... and I grudgenly agree... I just wanted MY redbull.. Tom tells me I have to buy him coffee because I allegedly promised, so I called him a prince. He got really upset. Insults were thrown. Elizabeth and I called Tom "Bitch" and "Dick" seemingly simultaneously. We all want to get breakfast so we stop at the only place we trust, Sheetz. Before entering the establishment I suggest a group hug. We hug it out. Elizabeth starts shaking uncontrollably and is very embarrassed to be hugging in front of such a fine eatery such as Sheetz, so we enter and get food. Tom forgets to buy coffee. I get three drinks. Elizabeth is speedy as ever with the MTO machine. We get our breakfasts and leave for Altoona.. only to find out there is American cheese on Tom's sandwich. I felt really sorry for the guy. Despite our Sheetz experience being less than kind, things were so much brighter then. On the road again. We passed a hitchhiker who nodded uncontrollably. Fleetwood Mac was playing so that was cool, only I couldn't hear anything Elizabeth and Tom were saying. Not like they were talking to me anyway. The car ride didn't take very long though, and we were soon in Altoona. This is a good thing because Elizabeth had a car appointment at 4pm back in State College, and it was now 2:00. Elizabeth admits she has no idea where Salvation Army even is, and assumed it would be right there waiting for us after we got off I-99. I try to use my Droid to look it up, but end up just confusing everyone! The gas light comes on. A local Altoonean is getting arrested in a blue van. We find the donation center and I boldly ask the rugged man smoking a cigarette outside for directions. He tells us brief and not very thorough directions, and I literally cannot understand him at all, except when he says that he's originally from Pittsburgh (they call it Picksburgh here). So we go towards Sam's club like we think he said, and find out that Altoona is actually home to the headquarters of Sheetz which is why there's roughtly 450 in the area. During this stressful time, Tom sees his "salvation" at Petco, and suggests instead of going shopping for clothes we purchase toys for Miep. Tensions were high. Saw signs that read "Tumor Killing" and "Intentional Colding". Altoona is frightening. Finally, we find Salvation Army. And it really was our sweet salvation.
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
Today I woke up with that not-so-fresh feeling -- I was awakened by the realization that time keeps progressing. The clock keeps ticking. I was warned this would happened. Like sand through the hour glass. So are the days of our lives. You are reading this blog and thinking, what's a psych major like me doing in a place like this? Well I'm thinking about getting a bowel of cereal. I just spent liek so long in bed just reflecting upon my life, it's ups and downs, what I want to eat next. While contemplating a bowl of Cheerios (they sometimes call them "TOASTED OATS" here... This is funny to me because I always thought Cheerios were FRIED BREAD (fried?fired?) I imagined reading the dictionary. I thought of the harsh struggel through the pages, the letters ornamented in Times new Ramen font, it is just so foreign to me. Like my mind is in a foreign place.. Anyway. Sometimes when I try and look at the box I imagine what it would be like to eat whats inside. Right now In my hostel I am eating them. Tasting what they have to offer. So that the memory will not evaporate into the thin air. I talked to one of my American neighbors who feeds the local street cats (they call them "strays"). she recommended an exotic locale called "Orchard Park", just down the street from our townhostel. Even though its called a "PARK" it's still like a "GARDEN" but not in someones backyard, FOR EVERYONE! I enjoyed tossing a quiet frisbee in the comfart of the afternoon sun with my friends Elizabeth Damien Tom and Mike! of course even though he's my boyfriend he's still my friend.. with benefits! (they call it a "relationship" here!). As dusk arrived, the sun drifted into the horizon like a still dragon and we were left to unravel the gift the sun gave us: night (sometimes called "evening")!