apologies!

Soooooo, I realized that people are still visiting our dear old little blog hoping for just a tiny glimpse into the exciting lives of Tara and Tracy.

Well, I'm sorry to disappoint, but the life of Tracy is not so exciting these days. I get up. I go to class. I go to work. I go to more class. I long to nap. I become overwhelmed by the amount of work I have to do. I have a mini-meltdown. And then folks, I call it a day. I go to bed. And I get up the next morning and do it all over again. Oh, and bagels, I eat a lot of bagels.

This cylce has been punctuated by some drama, of the boy variety of course. But such is life.

Tara's life, on the other hand, is super exciting because she is in Chile! And you can read ALLLLL about it at www.tarainchile.blogspot.com

yesssss, click that link! you know you want to!

a back to school graph

<3tracy

he's trying to kill me with environmentalism.

Today my summer job ended and I moved back home to Lancaster. Today also happened to be the hottest, stickiest day of the entire summer -- the Department of Homeland Security put out some official heat warning, DC-area pools extended their hours, deodorants of every brand didn't stand up to the job. It felt like death outside. And after lugging every single one of my possessions out of my dorm room and into the humidity, I was practically melting to a puddle right on the corner of Mass Ave.

So I was really appreciative of the air conditioning during the car ride home, and I also spent some time daydreaming about the central air at my dad's house. Mmmmm central air, how I love you for keeping me puddle-free and happy!

But when I walked in the door, I FELT NO CENTRAL AIR CONDITIONING. "Oh yeah, it's still broken," my brother casually mentioned to me. "It hasn't been working forever. But you can open some windows and it's sort of okay."

After unpacking about 358 suitcases in my tiny, sweltering, un-air conditioned bedroom, I felt like a) I had never left DC and I must not be at home after all, b) I wanted to die, c) I should probably get rid of half of the things I own, and d) I would do absolutely anything for some beautiful amazing cold air.

Eventually, I resigned myself to my sweaty uncomfortable fate, sucked it up, and opened some windows like my brother suggested. And I asked my dad how long our air conditioning had been broken.

"Oh, it works fine," he answered cheerfully. "We just try not to use it."

No. No way. I almost would have laughed at him, except I wanted to cry on the inside. "But...wait a minute...Seth told me that...how did you not USE IT today?!?!??"

"It was easy! We just didn't turn it on!" he said, smiling at me like I was making a funny joke. Unfortunately for both of us, I start losing my sense of humor around 93 degrees.

whyyyy is my dad trying to kill me why why why why whyyyy

<3tara

i'm not the only one!

Anybody that really knows me knows that I despise the word "panties" (just typing it makes me cringe). Most people think it's weird. But it's just so creepy to me.

Today while I was at work not working, I was reading Glamour online and I found this piece about the vile word. I feel validated.

<3tracy

center for disease control announces new epidemic

An epidemic has hit our nation's capital! The Center for Disease Control is calling it "pleated pantsitis" and they estimate that seven in ten males in Washington, DC have contracted it! They're particularly concerned about the "khaki strain" of this virus (also called P1K1) which may be resistant to antibiotics.

Symptoms include:
-Owning 1+ pairs of pleated pants
-Wearing pleated pants in any context
-Confusion as to why pleated pants are a fashion don't

Pleated pantsitis can lead to a loss of one's "game", loss of one's dignity, and if left untreated can result in fashion suicide.

If you have already contracted pleated pantsitis, the CDC recommends you visit your nearest department store for treatment. If you are not infected and wish to reduce your chances of contracting pleated pantsitis, the CDC is recommending GQ and the Style Network as preventative measures.

<3tracy

PS - I hope you're glad we're back, bitches!

to be determined: back with a vengeance!

Okay, so Tracy and I have obviously taken a hiatus from our blog. We got a little lazy this summer and stopped appreciating the blogworthy moments in our lives. We know we disappointed you. We know you probably spent countless days this summer sitting at your computer, trying to refresh this page and crying when there were no new blog posts to be found. Please forgive us.

But never fear! We are BACK -- with new photos, new anecdotes, new dialogues, and a brand new layout. Get excited.

<3tara

sorry, Trent

So after that last post, I got to thinking. And I decided that Tara and I don't embarrass our friends enough. Sure I embarrass them by making a scene in public just about every chance I get; but that's just them being embarrassed by our friendship, sometimes I just want them to be embarrassed about themselves. So I had this thought in the back of my head when I was shamelessly creeping on Trent's photos. And I decided that he is my favorite person to facebook creep (besides potential love-interests, of course!) because HE MAKES THE BEST FACES EVER! Observe:

Trent, you are my favorite!

<3tracy

he's been deceived!

Tara and Tracy are at their respective jobs, bored and facebook chatting to pass the time.

Tara: Tracy...
Tara: my life isn't funny anymore
Tara: I have nothing to blog about!
Tracy: ME NEITHER
Tara: I've been trying to write a new entry and I've got nothing.
Tracy: you know what's funny?
Tracy: Steph has a profile picture on facebook with a bra on her head...and I bet James saw it.
Tara: hahaha yeah he's totally facebook stalked her!
Tara: but it's Lauren's bra
Tara: he's been deceived
Tracy: HAHAHA
Tracy: there
Tracy: that's our blog post!
Tracy: badabingbadaboom



<3tara & tracy

tara and seal: a love story

I know we're in college, but it's not THAT weird to remain attached to a favorite childhood object, right?? Some people keep their teddy bears or baby blankets. I don't have one of those, but I do have Seal.

Seal is a white (okay, more like a dingy graying) stuffed animal that I got at the Baltimore Aquarium when I was about nine years old. Ever since then, he's slept in my bed every night. My mom made fun of me when I packed him for college, but I'm not ready to be separated from Seal just because I'm approaching adulthood.

Tracy objects to Seal because he's gotten a little worse for the wear over the years -- I would call him "well-loved," but she would call him "disgusting." Once during fall semester, she gave Seal a long-overdue bath. Because I wouldn't let her put him in the washing machine in case it destroyed him forever, she lovingly scrubbed him with laundry detergent in our bathroom sink and blow-dried his fur.

Despite his questionable hygiene, it's pretty clear that Seal is a hit. Visitors always enjoy playing games of "Seal ball" in the hallway, nuzzling Seal to their chests, and hiding Seal in secret spots around the room. The Erics (both Modrak and Piccirelli) love to find creative places to put Seal, which never fails to send me into a panic as I frantically search for him right before I want to go to sleep. I have discovered Seal on top of my lamp, behind my printer, and at the bottom of my laundry basket after having small panic attacks.

This past weekend, when Alejandro visited me in DC for a couple days, he had all the usual criticism -- Seal is gross and dirty, Seal is a ridiculous thing for a 20-year-old to keep in her bed every night, blah blah blah. I didn't care. I love Seal and I ignored all of Alejandro's threats to steal him away from me.

When Alejandro left to drive back to New Jersey, my room seemed like it was back to normal. It was finally clean and contained only one person's personal stuff. But when I went to get ready for bed, THERE WAS SOMETHING VERY WRONG. I couldn't find Seal ANYWHERE, even though I was sure I had put him on the end of my bed that morning. Alejandro and I had a ridiculous text message exchange while I tried desperately to find Seal:


Tara: WHERE IS SEAL WHERE IS SEAL WHERE IS SEAL WHERE IS SEAL?
Alejandro: Somewhere special.
Tara: I hate you. I HATE YOU. Tell me where he is right now.
Alejandro: Oh, just guess.
Tara: OH MY GOD. If Seal is in New Jersey, I WILL KILL YOU. Do you hear me??? I will come there and kill you.


Luckily, Seal was not all the way in New Jersey. He was hidden on a top shelf next to my Swiffer (and now he smells a lot cleaner than he used to). It was the closest call yet. I don't know what I would do if Seal was all the way in a different state from me. I'm going to sleep with him forever and I don't care what my future husband has to say about it.

<3tara

memorial day weekend with roxanne and eric

My weekend in photography and song!

Antiques at Savage Mill.


Ghost hunting at the Patapsco Female Institute.


Backyard show with Man and Dog.

Whistle Dawn - Man and Dog


All Day with No Rest - Man and Dog



BOLT! Dance Party at the Hexagon featuring Ten Elevenths.


Perchance to Dream (Mastered) - Ten Elevenths


The Facts (Mastered) - Ten Elevenths


And of course, Eric's excellent thrift store find.

<3tracy

live from roxanne's house

epic

weekend

photos soon.

<3tracy & eric

newsflash: even when you speak in spanish, sometimes there are gringas like me who can understand you.

"A no alcohol policy? Seriously? When you get this many Hispanics together, you can't expect them to stay sober."

"If you girls ever want to come to Mexico, you have a house to stay in. ...My house."

"They can't get us in trouble. We'll just say we don't speak any English. Why isn't there a translator here? Can we get a translator? That's what we'll say."

<3tara

everything is relative...

Today when I was in the shower I was thinking about how much I hate communal bathrooms. Then I remembered that if I had gone back to work at summer camp this summer I'd still be using communal bathrooms and at least when I use the communal bathrooms at school I don't have to worry about finding dead chipmunks in the toilets...

<3tracy

EPIC FAIL

I don't know what it is but lately I have been failing miserably at life.

Tonight I broke the lid to my pot. But it's not like it fell and cracked into a few pieces. No, it SHATTERED and suddenly my floor was covered in teeny tiny very sharp shards of glass. Like we're talking thousands of shards. I spent the better part of an hour on my hands and knees with a roll of duct tape trying to get all the broken glass out of the carpet.

Last weekend I broke a light bulb. But not an ordinary lightbulb, no sir. A CFL. The difference? CFL's have MERCURY in them. So of course I have a MELTDOWN trying to figure out how I'm supposed to clean it up and whether or not I'm in compliance with EPAs hazardous waste disposal guidelines. I actually googled "signs of mercury poisoning" because I thought I was going to die. Thankfully I didn't, but I still had to clean up a million shards of glass and some scary powdery stuff.

Today I tried to go grocery shopping and I put in the wrong PIN for my debit card. On Monday I walked into Whole Foods and it was beautiful and sunny. Fifteen minutes later I walk out and find myself in a TORRENTIAL downpour. Did I mention I had 3 bags of groceries and no umbrella?

My sewing machine was delivered on Tuesday but when I went to get it they told me I had to have a package slip. I went to check my mail only to realize that instead of turning in my old mail key I accidentally turned in the key to my desk at work. Not only that, but they new key they gave me for my new room was THE WRONG KEY. So I go to the desk to get a new key OHJKWEDON'THAVEAKEYTOGIVEYOUCHECKBACKINAWEEK. So I borrow my roommate's key OHJKYOURMAILBOXISJAMMEDANDTHEKEYWON'TGOIN.

Oh and then there was the matter of getting promoted at work. Yeah, I know that sounds like a good thing, until you find out that I'm doing twice the work and not getting a pay raise. Oh and then I found out that my job is basically a dead end and they are going to kick me to the curb the DAY I graduate.

I can't sleep at night because my back hurts so badly from sitting at a desk in front of a computer for 40 hours a week. As a result, I oversleep and am late to work.

My cuckoo clock is broken. I lost a button on my jacket. I can't fit all my clothes into my drawers in my new room. Broke my new brown heels. I can't solve the USA Today crossword puzzle if my life depended on it (so embarassing).

I really really miss my suite. I'm becoming a recluse.

FUCK MY LIFE.

<3tracy

i can has chocolate?

I'm working in Commissioner Moeller's office today and I just signed for an enormous package. Upon closer examination, I saw it was from Godiva.

MMMMMmmmm....

<3tracy

the story of Tara's worst nightmare come true

I am terrified of cars. 

I am scared of driving them. I am scared of being driven in them by reckless teenagers who swerve and speed. I am scared of crossing the street against traffic. Even at Ward Circle, where the cars are supposed to yield to pedestrians, I like to wait to step into the street until the coast is completely clear. Cars are bigger than me and they are scary.

My parents are to blame for the root of this fear. When I was growing up, they liked to remind me of the statistical data on teenage driving and car accidents. (For example -- did you know that for every additional passenger in the car, the chance of an accident increases a bajillion percent? Did you WANT to know that???) I think they just wanted me to be cautious, but I ended up with an irrational phobia that causes me to sprint across the street even when I have the right of way.

I am the last person that should have ever gotten hit by a car.

But that's what happened on Monday night as I was walking home from Tenleytown with an armload of groceries. As I was crossing the street with all of my usual caution (I was IN THE CROSSWALK, with 5 WHOLE SECONDS left before the light was going to turn), I looked to my left to see a car making a turn. And continuing to make a turn. Right into me.

I'm going to give the driver the benefit of the doubt -- it was 8 p.m. and raining, so I guess they had a hard time seeing me. They should have heard me, though, because I started screaming at the top of my lungs as my greatest fear started to come true: the car ran into my side and knocked me over onto the street.

Fortunately, it wasn't going fast enough to hurt me (that is, if you don't count my emotional scarring). I didn't have any bumps or bruises or broken bones. I stood up without any trouble and promptly hyperventilated. 

The people in the car stopped, pulled over, and tried to convince me sit down in the back seat to catch my breath. I had somewhat of an internal conflict -- "Tara, you're not supposed to get in a car with strangers!!!!" competed with "Tara, you just got hit by a car and it's raining and these people should probably give you a ride home before you decide to sue them." 

Ultimately, I figured that these people weren't planning on kidnapping me. Running me over with their car was bad enough, and they probably didn't want to traumatize me any further. I was right. After apologizing, offering to call 911, and asking if I needed to go to the hospital about 48436799 times, they dropped me off on campus. One of the guys turned to me and said, "Well, at least you got a ride home out of this!" before turning white as a sheet and stammering, "That was tasteless. I'm sorry. That was an incredibly tasteless joke. That was terrible. I'm sorry. I didn't mean it. I'm sorry." (I think the threat of a lawsuit was scaring them all shitless. It was an interesting position of power for me.)

All in all, I am physically unscathed, but my fear of cars has increased exponentially. I apologize if you ever have to walk anywhere with me in the near future -- you may get impatient when I wait 10 minutes for all of the cars to disappear into the distance before crossing the street, and you may think it's weird when I jump 15 feet in the air whenever I see a car making a left-hand turn in front of me. I know my phobia is strange. But now at least it's not totally unfounded.

(And if those strangers in the car ever read this -- it's okay, guys. I was never going to sue you. But I will accept donations towards my inevitable therapy sessions. You can make checks or money orders payable to Tara, the girl who will forever be terrified of large vehicular objects.)

<3tara

the times they are a changin

So, faithful readers, Tracy and I have reached a turning point: we are no longer blogging from the same room.

This past weekend, we both moved out of our beautiful suite in Centennial and resigned ourselves to communal bathrooms for the next three months. Tracy is still living in the Southside dorms, and I am embarking on my first Northside experience in Hughes. This summer promises lots of blogworthy adventures (Tracy has a new roommate! Tara has a new job! Tracy and Tara will conquer DC in their spare time!), so stay tuned.

<3tara

edit: So I'm not actually sure if I'm allowed to edit Tara's posts, but I felt like this needed to be added to the list of blogworthy adventures: Tracy will date a lot of men in her spare time!

But maybe that's just wishful thinking. haha.

<3tracy

:(

I have officially moved out of the suite and there is most definitely a hole in my heart.

:( Sad day.

<3tracy

why is it....

....that my suitemate having pink eye and warning me to keep my hands away from my eyes makes me want to touch my eyes more than I've ever wanted to in my life?


<3tracy

oh, finals week

things I have done today

- showered

- finished my laundry

- played (and lost) many games of Tetris

- watched old videos of OASN performances on YouTube

- Facebooked

- checked my email

- eaten a bowl of cereal

- sang along to Belle & Sebastian

- reassured Tracy

- organized my closet

- Facebooked again

- contemplated packing

- made lunch plans

- Facebooked some more

- blogged

things I have not done today

- studied for my final

<3tara