Hawaii Toast Song

Discovered this via Bee-Spot and Europopped.

It is Alexander Marcus and it is Hawaii Toast.

I don't know who the hell he is, and I don't know what the fuck Hawaii Toast is.

The only thing left to say is: You're Welcome.

How Not To Pick Me Up in a Bar

If you're trying to hook up with me, don't admit you're doing so because you're essentially blind.

Scene: Sidetrack Sunday night. Stopped in to meet a friend for a drink. We're talking and he excuses himself to use the restroom. A guy standing next to us moves in and and starts talking to me.

Him: "How's it going?"
Me: "Good, thanks. You?"
Him: "Good. But I'm drunk. My friends and I have been drinking all day."
Me: "Hmm. Sounds fun."
Him: "Yeah, so drunk! I can't even see straight!"

And... SCENE.
At this point I excused myself and walked away.
I mean, really. Granted, I'm not in the market for a hook-up; and even if I was, I don't expect it to be meaningful (this is Sidetrack, after all), but c'mon even I have some kind of standard. I would hope the guy would be able to distinguish between me and some blob standing against a wall.

I'm Not Dead...

... just in school hell. Which sucks.

In the meantime, I've joined Diaspora.

Recurring Dream

I have a recurring dream in which I'm always late getting somewhere important. The setting and scene is always different, but each time, I'm in a situation in which I'm trying to get somewhere, and for various reasons I just can't get there.

It causes a lot of anxiety for me, and I wake from it feeling stressed and anxious. I had one of those dreams this morning. I was in Chicago (I think) and it was snowing. I was rushing to get somewhere - where I don't exactly know, but it might have been a party or something like that. The snow was slippery, making it hard to walk. But the worst part is that I was weighed down by my Pharmacology textbook.

In real life, this bastard is big and heavy. When I stuff it into my backpack, it is pretty much the only thing that will fit. It is a bitch. And in my dream, it was so heavy I just couldn't get to my destination. I remember cursing and wondering why the fuck I needed to pack it with me.

Some might say that this dream clearly shows my reluctance towards school, and how I feel it is keeping me from living my life or preventing me from doing fun things. Or something like that. Although it prolly isn't an accident that I had this dream during Spring Break, where I spent 6 hours at the Library while it seems most everyone else is... well, not at the Library.

The Saddest Question I've Ever Uttered

"What are your hours during Spring Break?"
- me to the Lau Library front desk this morning.

Sigh.

So Spring Break begins today in about 2 hours, right after my Med-Surg class. I'll be staying here, using the time to catch up on schoolwork and relax a little. Try not to be jealous. It's not going to be all boring, though. I plan to get sufficiently knockered one or twice as well.

In an ideal world, I'll hit the books a few hours a day so that by next Sunday I am completely on top - or maybe even ahead - of my studies as we move into the last half of the semester. Although the more likely result will be that I sit around and don't get shit done.

I do wish I were heading back to Chicago for at least a few days, but it is probably best that I stay here.

Portland in a month, though, which will be sweet.

Open Letter to Dick Cheney

Dear Dick:

I just read you're over at GW Hospital getting a coronary angiogram. (You didn't tell me you were here in town - why didn't you call? Anyway...) Total bummer. Did the doctors have trouble finding your coronary arteries? I mean, on account of you not having a heart and all?

Haha. Just kidding. A little medical humor there (I couldn't resist).

Anyway, I'll make this short since you don't seem to have much time left. Here's the thing:

You should just stop already.

Seriously. You've given it a valiant fight, but time to hang it up. I think your many and endless years of ornery-ness, bile, lies and general asshol-iness have (finally) taken their toll and you should read the signs and just retire for good. While you still have some time.

I mean, c'mon - you showed up to Obama's Inauguration - your last day in office - in a fucking wheelchair for fuck sakes. You should have just gone quietly into the night back then.

But Christ on a bike, you rose back up (kinda reminds me of the old Friday the 13th/Jason motto - "Nothing this evil ever dies" - hahahah. Just kidding.) and started to do the whole Sunday morning talk show circuit. What was that all about, anyway? I mean, we didn't hear two peeps from you for that whole 8 years you were our fucking Veep. Then, when you're done supposedly co-leading our country, we can't get you to fucking shut the hell up. Shouldn't it have been the other way around or something?

Anyway, haven't you had 4 heart attacks already? I think somewhere around myocardial infarction #2 you should have been thinking, "Geez, maybe I should slow down or something." I'm still just a nurse in training and perhaps not really qualified to make the following assessment, but: As Roxette would say, "Listen to your heart, when (s)he's calling for you..." And just take a permanent break.

So in closing, I guess what I'm saying is: I think it is time to give it up. Retire -- for good this time. The country is really trying to move on from those 8 years you were around, and so should you.

Peace out.

24 Hours...

As of 1 pm today, I've been on campus for 24 hours straight. As in, I arrived on campus yesterday afternoon and haven't left yet. I studied at the library until about 2 am, headed over to Dahlgren and went to bed on a couch there.

I didn't really feel like cycling home in the cold over the snow and iced streets, only to turn back around and head back four hours later.

There's a first for everything, I suppose. On the plus side, I got an A in my exam this morning, but in general I am getting my ass handed to me in a soup bowl this semester.