ca. 1996I'm not sure if this is just made funnier by the fact that my brother was a boyscout or that I dated one, but I happen to think this is one of the most hilarious pictures I've ever seen.
A-mazing.
<3tracy
Sunday, November 30, 2008
Saturday, November 29, 2008
the ultimate anti-procrastinator shows signs of panic!
Now that I have thoroughly celebrated Thanksgiving with the Culp-Ressler-Keim-Shenk-Nimmershiem-Martin clans (I'll take questions about my family later), it's time to do what I've been putting off all semester. It's time to write my paper.
I have known about this paper for months, but I can't bring myself to do it -- and as someone who never so much as thinks about procrastinating, this is painfully uncharacteristic of me. I'm going to blame it on the fact that American University has allowed me to become lazy and forget how to write papers.
As a college sophomore, this is the first paper I've had to write all semester. I don't know how this happened, but I imagine it's due to the college gods smiling down upon me. (Of course, these are the same gods that make sure that I get into the classes I want, convince me not to change my minor, and give me psychology professors who curve grades. I like to think that I'm a passive participant in my life. It helps me sleep better.) Anyway, what I initially thought of as a blessing has revealed itself as a curse, because my paper is due in 6 days and I'm trying to remind myself how to format footnotes.
(A side note: I realize that for a normal college student, a paper due in 6 days means 5 more glorious days of freedom before the need to sit down and start the paper. I am not a normal student. I am crazy. Really, really, really crazy. I can't explain my irrational urge to finish things at least 3 days before they're due, except maybe my mom didn't let me procrastinate enough as a child. That, and my whole struggle to sleep at night thing.)
So here I am, locked in my house, trying to convince myself that this is just as good of a place to embark on my paper as the library. And it is like the library, sort of -- only with the addition of two cats, three younger brothers, a ridiculous amount of baked goods, and a cacophony of electric guitars, NPR, and vacuuming. College gods, where are you now??!?
<3tara
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
the important things in life
Things my mom remembered:
- what time my bus arrived in PA
- my serious addiction to chai (she was armed and ready to combat my post-travel grumpiness)
- how fast we needed to drive to make it home for the new episode of Law & Order: SVU (apparently, 25 mph over the speed limit)
- how much she loves to delegate doing laundry, cleaning bathrooms, and dusting bookshelves to her favorite oldest child
Things my mom forgot:
- my roommates' names (sorry, Roxanne and Lauren, she'll get it eventually!)
- my MAJOR (really? really.)
- all of the classes I am currently taking, planning to take, or have ever taken in my life
- where/when/why I am studying abroad
<3tara
Monday, November 24, 2008
how you know it's time for Thanksgiving break
Soooo not to belabor the whole "Tracy and Tara are Facebook stalkers" theme, but I think I've found my calling.
At our OneVoice event tonight (SHAMELESS PLUG: if you don't know what this organization is, you should check it out because we do a lot of things on campus -- plus, I'm on the executive board, so you're ensured the added benefit of my presence), the speaker discussed her work with Seeds of Peace, a nonprofit based in Israel. Part of her job dealt with networking and creating groups and seeking out people, and she said that Facebook was a really integral part of her research.
In her words: "As a young person who is very connected to Facebook, I am very skilled at looking at people's friends and finding mutual friends and, well, stalking."
Considering that I have recently spent an embarrassing amount of time browsing wall-to-walls, going through profile pictures, and refreshing my news feed instead of working on my 10-page paper, this bodes extremely well for me. If there are future careers to be made in Facebook stalking, I'll never have to worry about papers, majors, internships, grad schools, or anything else ever again! I don't think I have to explain how excited this makes me.
<3tara
I <3 PostSecret
Confession: I am a shameless facebook stalker.Request: Stop me if I ever take it this far.
i love you, PostSecret
<3tracy
Saturday, November 22, 2008
Nat's ultimate expression of patriotism
"I'm abstaining from sex until I can find some American-made condoms. No condoms are made in this country anymore because they're all from fucking, like, India and Bangladesh. And I'm an American!"
Babysitting is the sweetest gig EVER.
After the parents picked me up at 7:00, they spent half an hour putting their kids to bed while I waited downstairs and read a Newsweek. (At this point, I started to question my role as so-called "babysitter," but I didn't protest.) Once the kids were soundly asleep, they gave me their cell phone numbers, the remote, and permission to enjoy the contents of their fridge. Apparently they're meeting some friends for a three-hour dinner party or something, and they assured me I would have no trouble while they were gone.
Mom: "Worst case scenario, William wakes up and screams and wakes up Edward and you'll have to read them some stories. Or sing. Or something. Whatever, it won't happen. Call the pediatrician if there's an emergency. But there won't be. I don't even know why I'm telling you this. You'll be fine. Do you want any cookies?"
Me: "Um....okay."
Dad: "Edward has been sleeping through the night for months. He never wakes up. Ever."
Mom: "And William has a cold, so he's been sleeping more than usual."
Dad: "Have I showed you how to turn on the TV?"
Me (in my head): SERIOUSLY?
So here I am, appreciating Northwest DC as I never have before. Gotta love rich Bethesda-ites with overtired children.
(A sidenote: one of William's bedtime stories contained the line, "The skunks enjoyed kissing each other so much that they decided to get married. It was a beautiful wedding." Maybe this is my neuroses talking, but the first thing that sprang to my mind was THANK GOD THANK GOD THANK GOD that real life is nothing like bedtime storybooks. Shudder.)
<3tara
newsflash: i'm weird
You know that google quick search thing in your internet browser toolbar. Well it shows whatever you google until you erase it or search for something new.
The last thing I googled: "stuffed mustache."
Make of that what you will, readers.
<3tracy
The last thing I googled: "stuffed mustache."
Make of that what you will, readers.
<3tracy
why I have a love hate relationship with fire alarms
Why I hate fire alarms:
-They wake me up at 1AM when I'm tired and sick.
-They require that I stand around in 22 degree weather for an unreasonable length of time.
-They require that I roll out of bed and appear in public without benefit of a hairbrush.
-They force me to choose between putting on a bra or putting on shoes.
Why I love fire alarms:
-Encounters like this: Kid with crazy hair walks by me, Roxanne, and Trent. He yells 'BITCH!' I turn and look at him. He looks at me and says 'Not you.' He looks at Roxanne and says 'Oh, and not you.' He looks at Trent and says 'And certainly not you, sir.' And then he walks away.
<3tracy
-They wake me up at 1AM when I'm tired and sick.
-They require that I stand around in 22 degree weather for an unreasonable length of time.
-They require that I roll out of bed and appear in public without benefit of a hairbrush.
-They force me to choose between putting on a bra or putting on shoes.
Why I love fire alarms:
-Encounters like this: Kid with crazy hair walks by me, Roxanne, and Trent. He yells 'BITCH!' I turn and look at him. He looks at me and says 'Not you.' He looks at Roxanne and says 'Oh, and not you.' He looks at Trent and says 'And certainly not you, sir.' And then he walks away.
<3tracy
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
The great fridge debacle is finally resolved.
After a stressful night, a couple of meltdowns, extensive internet research, and a trip to Best Buy, we now have a working fridge! I think the three of us will be happy together. Tracy promised to defrost it regularly, love it forever, and keep it away from sharp knives.
So all is well. Although it's been making a disturbingly loud noise that reminds me of a coffee maker -- I hope it's not suffering from any appliance identity issues.
Monday, November 17, 2008
Kate's explanation for why she's going to India
"The problem is that I saw the movie RENT. Now I have to live every day like I have AIDS!"
Freezers and Freon and Freakouts, OH MY!
I thought today was going just fine. Little did I know that disaster was looming just beyond the horizon.
In retrospect, I should have known something was going to go absolutely, horribly, terribly wrong today.
I should have known when I accidentally stabbed myself in the eye with an eyelash curler. I should have known when I caused an avalanche of shitake mushrooms at Whole Foods. I should have known when I unintentionally (but nevertheless very blatantly) snubbed my ex-boyfriend. And I should have known when I got my arm caught between the wall and my bed trying to retrieve a lost hair clip.
But despite these obstacles, I carried on. Business as usual. In fact, I was in such a good mood, I decided to do a little cleaning. I put in a load of laundry, cleared off my desk, and made my bed. And then, I moved on to the task I was most dreading: cleaning the fridge. I had been putting it off for weeks and I was beginning to wonder if Tara had noticed that all her Tupperware was missing and that it was all in our fridge, filled with something that now only vaguely resembled food.
Tara had gone to a meeting so I was left to tackle the beast on my own. After emptying the Tupperware and washing the shelves, there was only one thing left to do: destroy the 3 inch thick layer of ice on our freezer. As a kid I remember my mom chipping the ice off of our freezer with a huge knife. I also remember her telling me not to tell my dad that she was doing it. Tonight I learned why.
I grabbed a small knife and my hair dryer and set to work. I distinctly remember thinking to myself that it might be a bad idea to use a hair dryer to melt ice on a freezer. I'm told that hair dryers and water have a pretty rocky relationship. But I never suspected that that innocent little paring knife would cause the crisis that it did.
I was happily chipping away at the ice when all of the sudden I felt my hand burning. It wasn't the kind of burning you feel when you hold your hand in the oven too long or when you accidentally pick up a curling iron by the wrong end (story for another day); no, it was a completely different sensation. Remember that lab safety video your high school chemistry teacher showed on the first day of class? The one where some kid accidentally spills a beaker of hydrochloric acid on his lab partner. Well the kind of burning I was feeling was the kind of burning you imagine that kid's lab partner felt.
Convinced that I had somehow released a spray of toxic chemicals, I rushed to the bathroom and frantically began scrubbing my hands. In a panic I called my suitemates in and told them that something terrible had happened but I wasn't really sure what. The conversation went a little like this:
Me: "MY HAND IS BURNING OMIGOD OMIGOD OMIGOD. Go see what's wrong with the fridge!!!"
Lauren: "I can hear the hissing noise, but I don't see anything wrong."
Me: "It's spewing some sort of chemicals!!! Take all the food out!!!"
Roxanne: "What did you do?"
Me: "I stabbed the freezer!!"
Roxanne: "You did what?? I don't see any holes!"
Me (pointing to a pin-sized hole): "It's right there! WHAT SHOULD I DO? OMIGOD OMIGOD OMIGOD"
Roxanne: "Go find Dave."
While Roxanne and Lauren tended to the wounded fridge, I ran down the hall and retrieved Dave.
Me: "DAVE HELP ME HELP ME. OMIGOD I'M HAVING A MELTDOWN!"
Dave: "What happened?!"
Me: "I killed our freezer!!! It's spewing chemicals or something!!!"
Dave: "Oh so it's not a meltdown, it's a cooldown?"
Me: "STOP JOKING AND HELP ME!!! OMIGOD OMIGOD"
Dave assessed the situation and determined that he had no clue what I had done. So I did what I always do when I break something: I called my father and started crying on the phone. Between sobs I explained what had happened. He told me that the good news was that my freezer wasn't spewing toxic chemicals. Apparently it was leaking something called Freon which keeps the fridge cold. So the burn I felt was just some really cold-ass Freon leaking out of the puncture wound. But my relief didn't last long when he told me that the bad news was that my entire fridge was now broken. He didn't know that the worse news was that it was Tara's fridge.
This fact took my freakout to a whole new level. I seemed to have forgotten every word in my vocabulary except OMIGOD OMIGOD OMIGOD. I thought for sure that Tara would freak when she found out. I thought maybe I could find I replacement fridge before she got back from her meeting. It would be like when you accidentally kill your friend's goldfish. I could find an identical fridge and Tara would be none the wiser. Unfortunately there's really no place to buy a mini-fridge at 10PM on a Sunday night. I was just going to have to come clean.
I tried to pull myself together in time to get to a group meeting. When I finally arrived at the library I was noticeably frazzled and when they asked what was wrong, I launched into my confession: I am a fridge killer. I was almost in tears and so were they. But they were crying because they were laughing so hard. Clearly they didn't understand the gravity of the situation. I calmed myself down and we carried on with the meeting. Everybody was celebrating the A we had received on our group paper. I started to tear up again. "What's wrong?" they asked. I answered, "We got an A on our paper, but without a fridge, what will I put it on?!" This sent them into another fit of laughter. Finally, so overcome by anxiety that I couldn't sit still for another minute, I left the meeting and walked home to face my doom.
As I walked back to my room I started getting more and more nervous. I rehearsed what I was going to tell Tara. "I'm so so so so so so SO sorry. I killed your fridge. The doctors say he died of Freon loss. I'm so sorry. I never meant for this to happen." Much to my relief I came home and found out that Lauren had explained the whole mess to Tara and she was totally fine with it. She knew I'd buy a replacement and all would be right in the world.
And even though there's a shiny new fridge waiting for me at Best Buy, I still can't help but feel bad for our old fridge. He was so young, so full of life and many jars of salsa. You always like to believe that something as tragic as a fridge stabbing could never happen to you. Maybe to some fridge in southeast, but never to your fridge. Well I'm telling you, dear readers, it can happen to you.
I am Tracy. I kill fridges. And I'm on the run from the law.
Lock your doors at night. Your fridge could be next.
In retrospect, I should have known something was going to go absolutely, horribly, terribly wrong today.
I should have known when I accidentally stabbed myself in the eye with an eyelash curler. I should have known when I caused an avalanche of shitake mushrooms at Whole Foods. I should have known when I unintentionally (but nevertheless very blatantly) snubbed my ex-boyfriend. And I should have known when I got my arm caught between the wall and my bed trying to retrieve a lost hair clip.
But despite these obstacles, I carried on. Business as usual. In fact, I was in such a good mood, I decided to do a little cleaning. I put in a load of laundry, cleared off my desk, and made my bed. And then, I moved on to the task I was most dreading: cleaning the fridge. I had been putting it off for weeks and I was beginning to wonder if Tara had noticed that all her Tupperware was missing and that it was all in our fridge, filled with something that now only vaguely resembled food.
Tara had gone to a meeting so I was left to tackle the beast on my own. After emptying the Tupperware and washing the shelves, there was only one thing left to do: destroy the 3 inch thick layer of ice on our freezer. As a kid I remember my mom chipping the ice off of our freezer with a huge knife. I also remember her telling me not to tell my dad that she was doing it. Tonight I learned why.
I grabbed a small knife and my hair dryer and set to work. I distinctly remember thinking to myself that it might be a bad idea to use a hair dryer to melt ice on a freezer. I'm told that hair dryers and water have a pretty rocky relationship. But I never suspected that that innocent little paring knife would cause the crisis that it did.
I was happily chipping away at the ice when all of the sudden I felt my hand burning. It wasn't the kind of burning you feel when you hold your hand in the oven too long or when you accidentally pick up a curling iron by the wrong end (story for another day); no, it was a completely different sensation. Remember that lab safety video your high school chemistry teacher showed on the first day of class? The one where some kid accidentally spills a beaker of hydrochloric acid on his lab partner. Well the kind of burning I was feeling was the kind of burning you imagine that kid's lab partner felt.
Convinced that I had somehow released a spray of toxic chemicals, I rushed to the bathroom and frantically began scrubbing my hands. In a panic I called my suitemates in and told them that something terrible had happened but I wasn't really sure what. The conversation went a little like this:
Me: "MY HAND IS BURNING OMIGOD OMIGOD OMIGOD. Go see what's wrong with the fridge!!!"
Lauren: "I can hear the hissing noise, but I don't see anything wrong."
Me: "It's spewing some sort of chemicals!!! Take all the food out!!!"
Roxanne: "What did you do?"
Me: "I stabbed the freezer!!"
Roxanne: "You did what?? I don't see any holes!"
Me (pointing to a pin-sized hole): "It's right there! WHAT SHOULD I DO? OMIGOD OMIGOD OMIGOD"
Roxanne: "Go find Dave."
While Roxanne and Lauren tended to the wounded fridge, I ran down the hall and retrieved Dave.
Me: "DAVE HELP ME HELP ME. OMIGOD I'M HAVING A MELTDOWN!"
Dave: "What happened?!"
Me: "I killed our freezer!!! It's spewing chemicals or something!!!"
Dave: "Oh so it's not a meltdown, it's a cooldown?"
Me: "STOP JOKING AND HELP ME!!! OMIGOD OMIGOD"
Dave assessed the situation and determined that he had no clue what I had done. So I did what I always do when I break something: I called my father and started crying on the phone. Between sobs I explained what had happened. He told me that the good news was that my freezer wasn't spewing toxic chemicals. Apparently it was leaking something called Freon which keeps the fridge cold. So the burn I felt was just some really cold-ass Freon leaking out of the puncture wound. But my relief didn't last long when he told me that the bad news was that my entire fridge was now broken. He didn't know that the worse news was that it was Tara's fridge.
This fact took my freakout to a whole new level. I seemed to have forgotten every word in my vocabulary except OMIGOD OMIGOD OMIGOD. I thought for sure that Tara would freak when she found out. I thought maybe I could find I replacement fridge before she got back from her meeting. It would be like when you accidentally kill your friend's goldfish. I could find an identical fridge and Tara would be none the wiser. Unfortunately there's really no place to buy a mini-fridge at 10PM on a Sunday night. I was just going to have to come clean.
I tried to pull myself together in time to get to a group meeting. When I finally arrived at the library I was noticeably frazzled and when they asked what was wrong, I launched into my confession: I am a fridge killer. I was almost in tears and so were they. But they were crying because they were laughing so hard. Clearly they didn't understand the gravity of the situation. I calmed myself down and we carried on with the meeting. Everybody was celebrating the A we had received on our group paper. I started to tear up again. "What's wrong?" they asked. I answered, "We got an A on our paper, but without a fridge, what will I put it on?!" This sent them into another fit of laughter. Finally, so overcome by anxiety that I couldn't sit still for another minute, I left the meeting and walked home to face my doom.
As I walked back to my room I started getting more and more nervous. I rehearsed what I was going to tell Tara. "I'm so so so so so so SO sorry. I killed your fridge. The doctors say he died of Freon loss. I'm so sorry. I never meant for this to happen." Much to my relief I came home and found out that Lauren had explained the whole mess to Tara and she was totally fine with it. She knew I'd buy a replacement and all would be right in the world.
And even though there's a shiny new fridge waiting for me at Best Buy, I still can't help but feel bad for our old fridge. He was so young, so full of life and many jars of salsa. You always like to believe that something as tragic as a fridge stabbing could never happen to you. Maybe to some fridge in southeast, but never to your fridge. Well I'm telling you, dear readers, it can happen to you.
I am Tracy. I kill fridges. And I'm on the run from the law.
Lock your doors at night. Your fridge could be next.
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