So This Is My Life

Sunday afternoon, and after a good day of hanging out with Emily, I need to settle in for the evening to get caught up on studying, and put a dent in the homework that is piling up. So what do I do? Make a schedule, of course.

I actually wrote the below before I jumped into the shower:

5 - 9 pm: Patho studying

9 - 10 pm: Review of Assessment lecture notes (H,S & N, HEENT)

10-11 pm: Review NIH and CDC websites for info on Varicella

How lame and ridiculous is my life that I now have to schedule my evenings to the hour?

... Only 15 more months of school left...

Yes, But Is It RiDONKulous?

Friday night, standing in a long line to order food at Vapiano (don't even get me started), a text message convo with my new friend Emily ensues:

Me: "I am having the most ridiculous evening ever."

Emily: "Yes, but is it ridonk?"

I love my new friend Emily.

New Favorite Phrase in the English Language

"See you next week."

- Uttered by my Philosophy teacher (in his thick German accent) Thursday 11:35 am.

On a day like today -- where summer and its nasty, nasty humidity has reared its ugly head (seriously? it is almost October. wtf.) and allergies are killing the shit out of me (I weeze as I type this) -- there is no greater phrase in the English language.

This has been a Rough. Week. I am grateful that it is almost over.

Dear Rock Creek Parkway

Dear Rock Creek Parkway:

What gives? Yeah, I know you have mysterious ways and all, and that you're one of the city's best kept secrets and all that bullshit, blah blah, blah.

But seriously: is there a secret handshake I need to know about? Some kind of password in order to gain access?

No? Then why the fucking secrecy? Why do you make it so difficult to find/get onto you?

The other night I had to drive from my place in Columbia Heights to National Airport to pick up a friend, and I thought I would take you in order to get there. Considering I live just about a mile from you, I thought this would be easier - and more logical - than driving all the way through the city. I figured, why not take you and get to National in a matter of minutes instead of, say, taking 16th St. all the way down to who-knows-where (Constitution? Independence? I haven't clue.) and then onto 395, etc.? But no.

Imagine me and Edmund, driving down Klingle thinking, "OK, there's going to be a sign somewhere along here directing me to the southbound ramp..." But you know what? That sign never came. Ever.

Here I am, driving parallel to you for a good 15 minutes and no sign ever came. What the fuck is that about?

What could have been a 15-minute easy stroll through the western edge of the city to National on a balmy DC evening instead turned into a name-cursing, gas-guzzling, white-knuckle hell ride through first Mt. Pleasant, then DuPont Circle, then Foggy Bottom (hello Watergate!), then Georgetown (huh?), then - wait for it - fucking Rossyln (for fuck sakes!), before somehow meandering through motherfucking Crystal City before finally getting to the airport.

In what reality would a trip from Columbia Heights to National Airport involve a sidetrip through Rossyln?? Only in your sadistic one, Rock Creek Parkway.

Fine. I know I'm relatively new here (again). And therefore not too familiar with best routes to get through the city, but I also don't consider myself an idiot when it comes to driving and directions.

Would it kill you to have a few directional signs posted that point to your on ramps? Or is "Figuring Out How To Access the Rock Creek Parkway" just another one of those subjects that new DCers must figure out on their own, like, say, "Getting Temporary Tags for Your Car Before It Gets Impounded" or "Finding a Grocery Store with a Decent Produce Selection"?

I thought so. Go fuck yourself, Rock Creek Parkway.

Proof That I Am Not the Typical Georgetown Student

While studying in the SMH lounge this afternoon, I overheard a student talking on her cellphone: "Dad is complaining that I'm spending too much money, but I found out he's joining a country club and going on a Norwegian cruise in November."

More proof that the average student here is different than I.

Adventures in Celibacy! (Pt. I)

Here are the highlights from the party I attended this evening:

• My Crush left without saying goodbye. Or hello, for that matter. Confirming the fact that I suspected all along - he doesn't know I exist.
• My "Plan B" Crush also left without saying goodbye*.

Sadcakes. Major sadcakes. But, there is that box of Parmesan Basil Wheat Thins sitting there on the counter just waiting to be eaten. So, I got that going for me....

* Although at one point during the evening, he did put his hand on my shoulderblade. That counts for something, right?

Oh, It's On...

It is SO ON, Bitches!