Saturday Night I attended this Student of Color Connection Lock-in. There was a bunch of different activities planned for the night. One of them was a poker tournament (no limit Texas Hold'em). I will be honest...I have no real experience playing this except with my other inexperienced friends and I also watch it on Celebrity Poker Showdown and other Poker games on ESPN. There were about 8 guys, 7 girls playing. The guy leading the games split the group into two, and the top three of each would play each other. Well, he wanted to split the group into the experienced and the inexperienced. Without really asking who has played and who hasn't, he makes it a girls table and a boys table. Ugh. I wouldn't have taken so much offense to it if the girls didn't know how to play, but there was only two girls who had either no idea at all or very little idea of what to do (the latter being me). What made me really happy was when the completely inexperienced girl made it to the final table. Take that you stupid boy.
1/30/2005
1/28/2005
A reason I am glad I am not a teenage boy
This will be long because it deserves a lot of explaining but it is definitely worth a read. Not too many people that know me personally have heard of this story. It had remained a secret between me and two other girls that have witnessed the "indecent" act (ok, so maybe each of us had told a few people that we could trust not to blab the story around school). The reason I think I, along with the other girls, never repeated what we saw was not so much to save the character/face of the individual we witnessed (which was the reason for me) but it was more of saving our own character/face for not only witnessing it but for not doing anything about it. So now, I guess you are wondering what it is I am talking about. Well here it goes: *Names have been changed to protect the innocent.
Phoebe, Monica and I sat together in the back of Ms. Comer's sophomore English class. We were not friends outside of the classroom, but we enjoyed each other's company while inside the class. Joey sat to the right of our group and didn't really talk to anyone, he was a loner. Some kids made fun of him. He had that dorky facade. Anyway, one day while we were listening to our teacher, out of the corner of my eye I noticed Joey rubbing his hand over his pants. It wasn't a gentle brush, but rather more of a vigorous back and forth motion. I was shocked and looked away, telling myself to ignore it and it would go away. I hate to use this term because it is cliche, but it really was like witnessing a car wreak. I couldn't stop looking. It blew my mind. "How could he?" I thought. (You must remember too that seats were assigned, so I couldn't leave my seat).
As it turned out, this was a daily thing, almost on the dot timing. I never turned to look at Phoebe or Monica the first few days, I guess I was too shocked. But finally, one day while Joey was in action, I looked over at Phoebe and she was looking in Joey's direction as well. She noticed me looking at her and gave an embarrassed giggle. I mouthed "I know!!!" Then Monica noticed what we were looking at and joined in our little secret.
As the semester went on, he never knew that we knew and he never ceased. Monica, Phoebe and I were deciding what to do about it. We didn't want to embarrass him, but as time went on we didn't want people to know that we have been watching for that long. Joey even upped it by unzipping his pants and putting his hand inside. That day I let out a quiet yelp, that luckily no one noticed. That day also started my smooth hand-on-the-side-of-my-face in a "I'm concentrating really hard" pose that helped me divert my eyes from the mess. (At this time I should also mention that Joey was not blatantly doing this. He seemed to be trying really hard to do it discreetly). Eventually we were able to move seats, and so ended my daily show. Monica, Phoebe and I would always continuously mention it to each other. It bonded us. Phoebe even wrote about it in my yearbook (using code words of course). Ah, traumatic moments in high school.
It is odd that I go from talking about babies to talking about this. I don't know what has made me think of this and want to write about it. I think I've been watching too much Stella and now my mind has gone in the gutter. By the way, the teacher's name was not intentionally created. I needed inspiration for a last name and it just so happened that it was my psych book author's last name. It was completely coincidental.
Phoebe, Monica and I sat together in the back of Ms. Comer's sophomore English class. We were not friends outside of the classroom, but we enjoyed each other's company while inside the class. Joey sat to the right of our group and didn't really talk to anyone, he was a loner. Some kids made fun of him. He had that dorky facade. Anyway, one day while we were listening to our teacher, out of the corner of my eye I noticed Joey rubbing his hand over his pants. It wasn't a gentle brush, but rather more of a vigorous back and forth motion. I was shocked and looked away, telling myself to ignore it and it would go away. I hate to use this term because it is cliche, but it really was like witnessing a car wreak. I couldn't stop looking. It blew my mind. "How could he?" I thought. (You must remember too that seats were assigned, so I couldn't leave my seat).
As it turned out, this was a daily thing, almost on the dot timing. I never turned to look at Phoebe or Monica the first few days, I guess I was too shocked. But finally, one day while Joey was in action, I looked over at Phoebe and she was looking in Joey's direction as well. She noticed me looking at her and gave an embarrassed giggle. I mouthed "I know!!!" Then Monica noticed what we were looking at and joined in our little secret.
As the semester went on, he never knew that we knew and he never ceased. Monica, Phoebe and I were deciding what to do about it. We didn't want to embarrass him, but as time went on we didn't want people to know that we have been watching for that long. Joey even upped it by unzipping his pants and putting his hand inside. That day I let out a quiet yelp, that luckily no one noticed. That day also started my smooth hand-on-the-side-of-my-face in a "I'm concentrating really hard" pose that helped me divert my eyes from the mess. (At this time I should also mention that Joey was not blatantly doing this. He seemed to be trying really hard to do it discreetly). Eventually we were able to move seats, and so ended my daily show. Monica, Phoebe and I would always continuously mention it to each other. It bonded us. Phoebe even wrote about it in my yearbook (using code words of course). Ah, traumatic moments in high school.
It is odd that I go from talking about babies to talking about this. I don't know what has made me think of this and want to write about it. I think I've been watching too much Stella and now my mind has gone in the gutter. By the way, the teacher's name was not intentionally created. I needed inspiration for a last name and it just so happened that it was my psych book author's last name. It was completely coincidental.
1/26/2005
I wonder what the babies are thinking
As I was walking down State Street on my way to class, I saw this adorable baby in one of those infant carrier-harness things. The baby looked about 4-6 months old. It had on this big thick winter suits and a colorful hat. It was pretty cold outside around 5 degrees with wind chill, so I felt bad because the cold was still able to get to his/her face. The baby looked pissed off. Its eyes were squinty with a furrowed brow and its mouth was all pursed (it still looked cute).
Then I started to think. I would be pissed off if I were that baby too. Think about it. Having this ridiculously big snow suit on then being constrained into a harness, in which there is no movement or bending of legs or arms. The baby's 4 appendages were sticking out, it looked like a star. To top it off, the baby was strapped on the dad's chest face out. That would be like a scary ride. You are suspended, from what seems like no where, you have no control of where you are going and you would feel like you could crash into anybody/thing at anytime. Boy am I glad I am not a baby.
Then I started to think. I would be pissed off if I were that baby too. Think about it. Having this ridiculously big snow suit on then being constrained into a harness, in which there is no movement or bending of legs or arms. The baby's 4 appendages were sticking out, it looked like a star. To top it off, the baby was strapped on the dad's chest face out. That would be like a scary ride. You are suspended, from what seems like no where, you have no control of where you are going and you would feel like you could crash into anybody/thing at anytime. Boy am I glad I am not a baby.
1/25/2005
It's Janet. Miss Jackson if you're nasty.
In my psychology classes, I have learned over and over again about the three levels of consciousness in Psychoanalysis. You have your Ego, your Superego and your Id. They also have titles which state their purpose which are, respectively, reality principle, moral principle and the pleasure principle. Whenever the professors call the id, "the pleasure principle" I start singing the Janet Jackson song of the same title in my head. I completely lose track of the lecture as I replay the video in my mind. Janet Jackson looking super cool in ripped jeans and a jean jacket with perfectly feathered hair. She was dancing in front of a mirror in what looked like a dance hall. Her dance even included a little "step on a chair and tip that back over" trick. It was major cool. Here's the lyrics for you because I know you want to sing along.
1/24/2005
Why have I never heard this before?
I just learned today about a little boo-boo that Bush Sr. (or rather his speech writers) made in a State of the Union. Still dealing with the "war on drugs" which his predecessor started, Bush showed a bag of crack-cocaine which he said was purchased off of the White House lawn. Of course this would cause some anxiety for Mr.. and Mrs.. middle america, who see the drug of the innercity crawling its way to the suburbs. Well, this is what Mr. and Mrs. middle america do not know:
Bush's speech writers knew that showing crack would make a big statement. So they went to the police asking for some crack just to use to show america what to be scared of. Well, not suprisingly the police said no. Then they (not sure if it was still the writers or some other employees) went searching on the streets for some. But here's the thing. They were telling the dealers they wanted the transaction to take place on the White House lawn. Also not suprisingly the dealers said no, knowing that they would get busted. Finally they found a naive 17 year old, who didn't even know what the white house was, to do it. They gave this boy directions on how to get there and what to do. On the day the boy didn't show up, so they called him and picked him up to go through with the transaction!!!!!!! Needless to say the boy was prosecuted.
Some random thoughts:
-In any Vietnam War era movies it is really annoying when they show a montage of war/protests clips and play that "Time Has Come Today" song. Seems too cliche
-If Southerners want me to stop making fun of them, then they have to stop doing things that will make me make fun of them such as: being a redneck, being ignorant, voting Conservatively because it is more "moral" and allow them to keep their guns (Now is this irony or hypocritical? Either way I know it is stupidity)
I know this is harsh, but this is a viewpoint of a liberal Northerner
-Do those Neighborhood Watch signs really intimidate criminals?
-McGruf could not work today. I didn't buy it as a kid.
Bush's speech writers knew that showing crack would make a big statement. So they went to the police asking for some crack just to use to show america what to be scared of. Well, not suprisingly the police said no. Then they (not sure if it was still the writers or some other employees) went searching on the streets for some. But here's the thing. They were telling the dealers they wanted the transaction to take place on the White House lawn. Also not suprisingly the dealers said no, knowing that they would get busted. Finally they found a naive 17 year old, who didn't even know what the white house was, to do it. They gave this boy directions on how to get there and what to do. On the day the boy didn't show up, so they called him and picked him up to go through with the transaction!!!!!!! Needless to say the boy was prosecuted.
Some random thoughts:
-In any Vietnam War era movies it is really annoying when they show a montage of war/protests clips and play that "Time Has Come Today" song. Seems too cliche
-If Southerners want me to stop making fun of them, then they have to stop doing things that will make me make fun of them such as: being a redneck, being ignorant, voting Conservatively because it is more "moral" and allow them to keep their guns (Now is this irony or hypocritical? Either way I know it is stupidity)
I know this is harsh, but this is a viewpoint of a liberal Northerner
-Do those Neighborhood Watch signs really intimidate criminals?
-McGruf could not work today. I didn't buy it as a kid.
1/22/2005
It's like "the nothing" from Never-ending Story
My Criminology professor was trying to explain what the white blight of the slums in cities was like. He compared it to "the nothing" from the never-ending story. He asked the class if anyone ever heard of the movie. Uhhh, yeah that movie doesn't ring a bell. Are you kidding me? My brothers, sister and I were raised on that movie. I still want to know what the hell Sebastian mom's name was. Well, either way, this professor gets a check-plus in my mind for using such an awesome reference.
1/18/2005
choo-choo charlie
What the hell is a choo-choo charlie? I heard someone on Amazing Race use it to describe the host, then I heard it used on an old episode of Saturday Night Live. I think it is a term of praise or something. But I think that CM thinks Peter Brady is a choo-choo charlie. I think his face is screwed up but he is buff.
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