Thanks for everyone's sympathy concerning my computer

I've right now got the cmore registration page open, and I'm going to bring myself around to dropping Egyptian before the night is over. There really is no rush, since Egyptian would start at 8:30 AM, and my class after that is at 11:30 AM, so I could basically sleep in during the morning if I didn't pick up a new class right away.

I've been agonizing a lot over this decision for the past two days, and yeah, two days doesn't seem like a lot, but when you didn't get a lot of sleep the past two days because you were translating medieval Spanish while worrying about Egyptian in the back of your head, then it seems like a lot.

I really hate quitting things in the middle. Why did I even start it then? Theoretically, I started it because I thought Egyptian would be fun, which it was for a while. Only for a while now, I haven't been learning anything so much as sitting absolutely petrified of the work and wondering why I started th class.

And I don't really have many reasons for taking the class.

1. I will never be an Egyptologist. Or marjor in Near Easter Languages and Civilizations.
2. I don't enjoy it anymore.
3. I am not finding a solution to world hunger through this class, nor do I think I'm any step closer to single-handedly bringing about world peace, either.

HOWEVER, I still have a nagging feeling that I could finish it if I stuck to it. Granted, I'm sure I could have accomplished a lot had a stuck to it long enoough, but right now I'm more thinking about chemistry. Last year, when I had to make my big chemistry decision, I felt this way too. I've felt this way several times since then, but that was the last time I agonized over the class. When I decided not to take it, I wrote my TA an e-mail to let him know, since he was nice, went to Berkeley for undergrad, and was from CA. Here's part of what he wrote me back:

"Are you sure? Well, I'm disappointed that you don't want to continue, but if you're not getting anything out of it I guess there's nothing you can do. Actually, to be honest, a lot of people do shit they hate for years (I know a few of them in Chemistry), so it's actually kind of good that you're figuring this out early on."

Further proof I save every e-mail ever written to me.

Anyway, somehow that made me feel better about leaving chemistry. I had decided it wasn't worth paying for bad grades, and that I could be doing something better with my time.

I also think I saved this message because he put the word "shit" in there, and at that time I still felt pretty "badass" if I even said "damn."

Well, shit. Times change.

Curiously enough, when I was standing around debating between to hieroglyph or not to hieroglyph on Wednesday, who should I see but my old chem TA in the first time in over a year, who I talked to for about 3 seconds, but, you know, he deemed me worthy enough for a conversation, even if I was not taking chem.

So yes. By dropping Egyptian I'll probably lose tons of cool points, I will be reduced to cleaning public bathrooms, and I might just become sterile, but, well, in 2 weeks time, you won't even remember I dropped it. And if I still took Egyptian, in 2 weeks I might just become rabid or suicidal.

Here I go.

Guess I never will be lucky in ___________

This morning, acting like I was technologically savvy and all, I went and bought a flash drive so that I could back up everything on my computer. I could just picture writing an entire blog entry about how WHOA look at me I did this ALL by myself AND I put up videos on my blog.

HA.

The flash drive is sitting blissfully blank next to my computer as the harddrive whirls away madly, and I've currently been on the phone with Dell for 3 hours because I keep on getting sent between the hardware and software departments. My computer will not turn on, it's making loud buzzing noises, and wow.

Connected to another person now. Saying same damn thing over and over again.

**EDIT**
I was just informed I lost everything on my computer. I KNEW last week this would happen, but would any of the 5 Dell people listen to me when I TOLD THEM IT WOULD?? NO! They just listen to me long enough to run a stupid diagnostic test and tell me there isn't anything wrong with the harddrive, and oh, that loud metallic sound is probably just something loose in the computer, just, you know, wiggle it a little and maybe do some sort of tap dance on it while it's turning on, and it might be ok.

Be there or be square

So by now I've been to all my classes, and after one mere session of each I can tell you what they'll be like.

Egyptian: harder than...than...moving a mountain?
Global Warming: yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaawn
Sosc: A lot better than first quarter, and possibly even better than last quarter
Introduction to the Picaresque Novel: really hard. final: 15-20 page paper IN ESPAÑOL that I would have to start writing tomorrow sentence by sentence and have reviewed every day by my devil of a teacher. Luckily, I think he's shortening the paper.

So that's all.

On to more important things.

I spent the day as a cripple today, and I can confidently say that it's harder than it looks walking around like a demented flamingo. YOU try going a day without mentioning that you pulled a gluteus muscle, or without someone mentioning it. It's impossible. It's like walking around with glow in the dark skin or hair made out of foam. You'd be telling EVERYONE

"Hey! I've got glow in the dark skin!"

Or it's like when I walked around high school with a huge hole in my backpack and somebody inevitably brought to my attention that I had an enormous, gaping hole in my backpack daily.

"Hey Aaaaaaaaaadrianne (Rocky impersonation), do you know you have a hole in your backpack?"

"No."

Today it was like:

"Hey, hey ADRIANNE, do you know you look like you've got something rammed up your butt when you're walking?"

No way.

It's getting better. If everyone is really curious to know how I pulled my muscle, it's because I was trying to break the sound barrier on the treadmill Monday night. I was not performing some intricate dance move or trying to wash dishes with my feet, so I'm happy I rather embarassingly cleared that one up.

I really want to put some videos on here. Anyone know how to do that?

Reflections with a pulled muscle (in my bum)

Earlier this evening I was walking along Kimbark when I saw a rickety old house with a very imposing "Beware of dog" sign menacingly stuck on its front door. The entire house was so fragile that it looked like it would up and run if confronted by a rabid mutt.

Yes, that description sounds remarkably like the defense mechanism for those insects or animals that resemble venomous creatures but are actually harmless, and I might only be writing all this because, well, it's 1:31 AM now and I just want to somehow drag myself to my super uncomfortable bed to get some restless sleep (waa waa waa shut up Adrianne), but these types of signs would make life a lot easier if they existed so obviously for people.

If I could, say, have a couple of signs like:

Warning: Inordinately stubborn over stupid things person ahead

or

Beware of Radically Negative and Self-Deprecating Person

Then not only would it be somehow kind of freeing to admit I've got something bad and scary, but then I might not have to meet the very people who worry me. Like those bugs. Although it doesn't exactly make much sense, but maybe they resemble bigger version of the very animals who are trying to eat it. Yeah, yeah, I remember from bio that they resemble the predators of their predator, but what would stop that other predator from eating the harmless one?

Anyhow, even though I'm in no place to say, I'm guessing parenting is something like this. Well, ok, not necessarily with the signs, but that the parent recognizes some of their own faults in their kid and tries to change that because they don't want to relive it. Then the phrase "The fruit never falls far from the tree" or "like mother, like daughter" is something they would not want to hear, eh?

I make absolutely no sense.

Enough talk, Adrianne. Here are some pictures from the first day of break. I don't know how that works, but I know at least one person will be happy that I used flickr instead of webshots, and will therefore not send said perseon into convulsions over the ads frantically flashing in the sidebars.

And here is something I don't know works, since it's through picassa and it just says something about a webpage, but golly gee, if that really is a webpage and I don't have to resize everything to stick onto flickr to still only get get a measly amount of pictures per month to put into my account, then I'm all for it. This second thing, if it works, demonstration how Adrianne takes pictures: point, then click a billion times at the same thing, eventually one will turn out.

**EDIT** damn. does not work. that's ok.

I feel like skipping school tomorrow

I'm back from my whirlwind, all-too-short trip to California, spent mostly with Mary Kate and Julie. I happened to be the designated chauffeur for the entire trip, and I have several rather humorous stories involving heart clutchings and Armenian "Our Fathers" recited in rapid succession as I blasted through the California freeways. Our route resembled not so much a normal straight-as-an-arrow, as-the-crow-flies trail as a merry-go-round (my, it's an I-love-hyphens!-day-today) as I blatantly disregarded large, intimidating road signs and red lights in my mission to SHOW JULIE EVERYTHING, DAMNIT, EVEN IF I FLATTEN 3 PEDESTRIANS ALONG THE WAY!

This is when I decided that I am not a good driver, but a lucky one. I might be unlucky in everything else, but last week in driving, no. Just in parking. Bad luck in parking. How come I wasn't the unlucky commuter pulled over onto the side of the road by the highway patrol when I had done something worse than him moments before?

So I was welcomed to my room, the darkened abyss, today. Most of the electricity wasn't working in different parts of the room, but thankfully, everything is fully functional.

How did Mary Kate and Julie pass the time while we were isolated in our black hole?















It was the veritable Seasonal Affective Disorder taking root in their constitutions. In they walk from sunny California to be greeted by a darkened, gloomy, now mouse-infested room, and they hit the bottle right away.

However, thanks to my frantic chopin work order, it's ok now. Crisis averted. At least, I like to think the prompt response sometime around 12 AM was because of my theatrical work order. I made it sound like I had to urgently perform open-heart surgery on fourth-degree burn patients in the room, and BAM, the electricity was back on. The work order people are strange, coming in at 2 AM to fix clogged drain pipes and such, but that might be because that time I made it seem like my favorite pet hamster was the thing actually glutting the drain, and not really all our luscious, thick, long hair (HA...HA...HA...!).

Thinking before leaving

I've been meaning, for this past week or so, to say "THANKS!" to everyone who said something nice and everything while I was sludging my way through last week with my papers and things. Even Tom's "I'd hate to be you right now" comments every few days helped.

See, here was a sleepy Eggy last week:















Oh, such a SLEEPY Eggy. This was my hour or so nap in between something or other, and I was most kindly decorated by Mary Kate and Julie.
















I'm guessing after the nap. An insane Eggy.

I still have a solid 2 hours before I can go to the airport. I've just been packing sporadically while listening to "Nostalgia Radio" or something. Every few minutes there is an interjection about how the listeners can win a package of "Nostalgia" programs if they donate some money and their first-borns to the radio station in order to keep it running, with the catch-phrase of "Those Were the Days."

Now, this could just be because I was thinking how I'm nearly half-way done with college and what I've done and what I still have to do, but it's occurred to me that lots of people, probably me included, are very anxious to go backward or forward to some other time than what they're in right now. However, I don't think I'll be wanting to go back to last week anytime soon. I wonder in how many years people will be thinking that the 2010s were "the years."

So with that, I'm looking forward to break, and to leaving. I hope my plane manages to leave on time this time.

David, sorry I didn't get to say "Bye bye" to you either, hope you have a good one.

I hope everyone has a good break, for that matter. Yes, I said that in the previous post, rather incoherently.

These are a few of my favorite things

In honor of watching Sound of Music last night, I want to post pictures that make me happy. Any picture. This does not mean that they have to be taken by me.

Obviously, I am not quite myself right now, and I am trying really hardly to spell everything correctly, which overall, I think I am managing quite well.

I think the phrase "trying hard" is funny because if it's an adverb, shouldn't it be with an "ly?" but then it would translate to hardly trying, and that's hardly what I'm doing right now.

So things that make Adrianna Klara Gyorfi happy RIGHT NOW. ANYTHING.






















































INSERT A GIANT PICTURE OF A CRANBERRY SCONE RIGHT HERE. THEY ARE INDISPONSED, SINCE THEY ARE ALL IN MY BELLY.

WAIT. I AM LOOKING FOR A PICTURE.
















THERE SHE IS.
















































































































































































Samantha and Richard. Richard had a bad tooth. Samantha looks like she's playing patty-cake.

































There are many, many other pictures on my computer that make me happy at the moment. But I can't post them because I have to get to sleep, and then pack in the morning.

I don't know how often I'll get the chance to update in "sunny" CA. The computer at home, I hear, is on the blitz, and I am not a fan of coffee shops in suburbs next to malls for free wireless.

I hope everyone has a safe, fun, and ridiculously great spring break.

Sorry about this, kids. I will be better next time.

**Answer to Adjoa's question from 3/12/06**

That bicycle flying in the sky is from a bicycle shop on Milwaukee Ave. or Damen Ave. I don't remember which, but it was at the Damen stop.

I think....

I'll be giving up wearing clothes for Lent.

Embellishment might be the stuff of life

Today was a nice, slow-ish day at work. It started out by Mr. Marrone (a.k.a. Jim) and I meticulously counting out hundreds of packets for elementary school kids about the glories of classical music, and sorting them into some stunningly even piles. Then came the "playing cards" of musicians, rubberbanding those too, and then the teacher packets, which had stuff like:

Crossword puzzles
Word searches
Large-font instructions for games
Italicized words

All in all, everything to make an elementary school kid think Mozart is the MAN and that Clara Schumann is COOL.

We ran out of teacher packets. This created a small-scale crisis, easily averted by engaging the services of:

**drum roll**

the xerox machine.

I'll introduce the xerox machine.

It is larger than me, but as demonstrated from yesterday's entry, many things are larger than me. It is enormous, ferocious, and growls when you walk past it. It also looks like it can compose lymericks and prove the Vitali Covering Lemma on its own, which tends to worry me.

When I use this xerox machine, I stick the paper into it, push the button, and scurry to the other side of the room to cower in a corner as it viciously spits out papers, the bodies of small children, and bullets in all directions. Then I meekly gather my papers and go back to work.

The beauty of this machine, as I discovered today, is that you can stick in a packet of unstapled papers, and it will make double-sided copies of the packet, with the papers in the correct order, and then....(wait for it)...it STAPLES the packet together!

Is this xerox machine not magnificent!? Scary!? Super intelligent?! It will one day become the next Napoleon!

Anyhow, today it did not go so well. In fact, today I guess we can say that Mr. Marrone and I had to perform a minor heart surgery upon the xerox machine after its celestial lights stopped scanning and as it started to flash across its face a forlorn little message of having a paper stuck in its innards.

So Mr. Marrone carefully lifted up the top, I kind of sort of tried to roll up my sleeves, and looked into the veritable heart of darkness. There were ANGRY THINGS in there, and there was only one way to solve the problem. I dove in to retrieve the paper. I emerged triumphantly a couple of minutes later with ink up to my elbows,and after having fought the thousands of little Lilliputians residing inside of the xerox machine.

In short, the xerox machine was, well, awe-inspiring.

Afterwards I came home and was confronted with much the same situation. Let's have a looksie.














That is Tix's car, a.k.a. Toots. (I just made that up)

Yes, you see that correctly. There is masking tape holding together the front. We don't mind, however, because we know what's REALLY inside Toots, and we love him.
















Beacuse when Tix starts driving Toots, he actually becomes A MIGHTY BEAST. Kind of like Tix...all cuddly on the outside, but actually an animal on the inside.















Hey Tix! I think there's masking tape on your car!












































Mighty and noble art thou!















There is a hole there.





























Driving off into the distance.

I can fix xerox machines. I can't fix cars.

**EDIT TO ELABORATE**
I think the condition of Tix's car can be explained by Tix getting into 2 accidents within the same week. I have no clue how the other cars fared, but I'm going to say I think they don't have masking tape holding together their vital parts.

Ideally, I would be doing laundry right now

Tonight, as always, I had very little to write about, since my day consisted of:

1. Waking up
2. Napping
3. Going to the library
4. Napping
5. Feigning studying
6. Eating dinner
7. Coming home

So I had several suggestions for topics from various people for blog, which included:

1. Batman. But I don't know much about Batman, aside from that he made out with Nicole Kidman at one point. I think.
2. A story with the following constraints: a jaguar in Japan, the ten commandments, and John Wayne would all have to appear
3. The age-old topic of Egyptian Hieroglyphs. Yes, everyone, I take hieroglyphs. I give you permission to not get over it, since I'm not over it yet, either, and I still don't know if I'm spelling hieroglyphs correctly
4. What would life be like bald?

Although all fine, creative subjects and questions worth writing 40 page dissertations about, the winning question of the evening was actually presented over our study break of some sort of cheese with some sort of chips. I am not a huge fan of chips with cheese, but I am a huge fan of study breaks, since I can usually wrangle something like this question from someone:

What would you do if you were one foot taller?

This was coming from Jimmy Salvatore. Aside from the initial reactions I always have when I see Jimmy, which include:

1. This guy is from New Jersey
2. Garden State took place in New Jersey
and
3. Why on earth did I used to like Garden State?

I also think:

4. This is a very short person.

Then a couple of weeks ago, it turned out I am SHORTER than Jimmy. This means I am nearly invisible to the human eye, which actually is quite convenient, since it means I can probably pick my nose and wedgies openly in public without being noticed. I could also probably get away with daring heists and big-time burglaries since no one would see me on surveillance cameras.

Is that a flea or Adrianne? I can't tell!

But anyhow, as we all know, there are a few drawbacks to being short, including being stuffed into dirty chimneys to clean them, and being trampled upon in large crowds. Also getting the short end of the stick (HA! PUN!) if you'd have to deal with Jack's giant at the top of the beanstalk.

So, if I were one foot taller, I would do the following:

I would not climb onto countertops to get to the top shelf in kitchens anymore.
I would paint ceilings with ease and finesse.
I would bend down to pick things up off the ground.
I would not ask strangers to get things for me off the high shelves at the grocery store.
I would change chandelier lights for everyone and charge $3.00 per bulb.
I would wash the tops of cars very well.
My Christmas trees would be the most symmetrically and beautifully decorated trees every seen.
I would not get every last pair of my pants hemmed.
I would help the elderly and blind across roads.
I would scratch behind giraffe's ears.
I would single-handedly assemble dinosaur skeletons.
I would walk across the Pacific Ocean.
I would save small children from the 9th floor of burning buildings by simply reaching in through the window.

Basically, if I were 1 foot taller, I would be a better person. I would MOVE MOUNTAINS.

In short (HA!), I think I would take over the world.

So I hear CA is having some bad weather...

Friday morning I handed in my Egyptian final and so came a rather unexciting denoument to my week as I was escorted back to the dorm on the wings of seraphins (<--do they even have wings?) and a herald of angels to sleep for a tiny bit before I woke up myself and aged about 50 years in 3 seconds when I thought I had forgotten to turn in the final. Friday also marked the first time I was alone in the dorm room for an extended period of time, since my three roommates went to some sort of concert. This means I had the rare opportunity to run around yoddeling in my room and checking my roommates' bra and underwear sizes.

(Do not think there was no yoddeling. Since we have rented The Sound of Music 2 weeks ago (terribly overdue) The Lonely Goatherd song has been a big hit in our room)

In my current state of lethargy, I have nothing to talk about, but here are some pictures from yesterday:




























Featuring Tina's hand






































































Why hullo Tina.




























Weird out-of-business hotdog stand on Goose Island. Wish I would have taken a picture of it from the front, on second glance.















A mall. Who can pick out the 7th graders?



































Yes, they do indeed dye the Chicago River green for St. Patrick's day. Yesterday was the day when the parade downtown was happening, and everyone went crazy. Everyone was wearing green.

I am so tired right now I can't think. It's hard to do nothing for a day.

I picked up a magazine with Shakira on the cover of it. Want to know what the title of the article about her is?

"Love in the Time of Shakira."

That TITLE IS SO BAD it made me almost not want to read the article. Love in the Time of Cholera didn't even take place in Colombia, like where she is now I think, which was the only POSSIBLE place to make the remotest connection between her and Gabriel García Marquez.

I guess "Well, Shit," isn't a winner either, and I am notorious for bad titles on papers, but this Shakira title was just so bad. Like if I'd be writing an article about the Mona Lisa and the title would be "Lovin' in the Louvre."

Ok, that's what I'll do.

Stream of consciousness list of items with titles:

Rollerblades: Rolling with the Stars
Car wheels: Brake for Speed
Ice cream: Icedream
Seashells: Egg Shells, Harden Up
Braces: Straighten up
Fan: Fanny your way into Style
Tupperware: Wear the Ware

See, not hard at all to come up with shitty titles.

b-o-r-i-n-g. yawn. zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

Hallelujah!

Well, the paper has been sent. 70% of my grade GONE, just like that

Highlight: Sending my teacher the copy of my essay with memorable title: "Well, shit."

I had to write her an e-mail after that one saying to disregard that title and here's the new one...the previous essay's title did not in fact reflect what I researched.

Onward ho to Egyptian. There is no way I can finish it all, but it doesn't matter, I never finish the finals in class anyhow.

Just an everyday email in my mailbox

I'm going to try to translate most of those 1st position verbs as 2nd tense, but translate the rdi verbs as prospective in purpose clauses (Hoch p. 90-91). Hoch says on p.91 that prospective of purpose often appear in explicatory sentences, so that works. I think there's one construction at least on the second page that could possibly be a 2nd tense + prospective in a result clause [the god does something with the result that the king tramples his enemies, or something]. I don't know if that's right, (or even if it works - I haven't tried to translate it that way yet) but it at least addresses the 1st position non-geminating form of rdi without iw or mk.

5-6 more pages to go on the essay.

They say a picture is worth a thousand words

That's 2,000 words right there. If I could substitute my essay with pictures I would take, I'd have NO PROBLEM.

Ok, go easy on me here, I found out my Egyptian final is DUE THIS FRIDAY JESUS CHRIST

Since everyone is hell-bent and dead-set on proving to me that there are actually plenty of batter syringes that would do the job better than any batter syringe I could hope to invent, I'll just come out and show you why MY batter syringe would be better than anyone else's.

Case in point:

A regular old batter syringe:











Adrianne's Amazing Batter Syringe:



















THAT'S RIGHT. It's got a dwarf AND an alien on it. And it talks to you. Plus, it's self-cleaning and actually mixes the batter for you, and it does Egyptian homework for you. For an extra $15 dollars it also write papers for you. And that is why it deserves an hour and a half infomercial.

Now, I'll go explode. As you can see from the title, a bad week just got worse. This is all I have to do by Friday

15-20 page research paper (Thursday)
6-8 page sosc paper (Tuesday)
3 2-page response papers (Tuesday)
Spanish composition (Wednesday)
4 Spanish responses (Wednesday)
Oral Spanish Final (Tuesday)
Take home Egyptian final not due next Friday: this Friday

Who needs sociology when you can eat junk food?

Life would be SO MUCH EASIER with this:

A batter syringe that would enable the cook to squirt the cupcake batter into the cupcake tins prior to baking. The opening would be wide-ish to accomodate for blueberries, walnuts, rat feces, what have you, that might be put into the cupcakes.

I can see I hit the big one with this idea. This entire past week I've been saying that really, I just need one thing to make me lots and lots of money, and then I would not have to worry about writing papers ever again.

This idea is not yet patented.

**EDIT TO ANSWER IMPORTANT QUESTIONS**

A pastry bag would NOT suffice because there is always stuff left in it. Always. Like a toothpaste tube when you run out of toothpaste and have no more, so you try to roll the tube up, then end up having to cutt the bottom off to get to the last bit of the toothpaste. And it breaks my heart to have to waste good batter in those squeegie tube things.

And Paul...wow. A NEVER saw a pancake batter dispenser. I wish I would have. But if it's not sold at my local Walgreens for $9.99 or less, as far as I'm concerned, it does not exist.

Sometimes you just have to go back to the drawing board

With nobody's permission, I am going to make a long-winded comparison between love and literature, because it's never been done before.

I shall be innovative tonight! Have showered and will make profound comparison between love and literature!

Let's go through the crushes I had way back when in my life when I still had a heart not hardened by years of analyzing complex sentence constructions and solving calculus proofs.

Preschool: Daniel.

I remember him well. We were working on a Cinderella puzzle together one day when we discovered we were missing THE FINAL PIECE and we could not finish up the pumpkin.

This would set the tune for the rest of my life. Always one crucial piece in the equation is missing for the whole kit and caboodle to work.

Then he had to go to the hospital because he swallowed a dime and it would not come out of him.

Where he is now: No idea. He might never have recovered from the dime incident.

Kindergarten: Michael Werno.

Oh Lord, was that ever adorable. He made a song for me. It went like this:

Little lover,
With her chubby cheeks

I kid you not. I can even sing it for you now. I blame him for my lifelong complex concerning my weight. If I recall correctly, we even got engaged. Then he moved to Connecticut or something.

Where he is now: Duke. I facebooked him like it was my job, and we are currently friends through there.

1st Grade: Nicky Thomas.

Nothing much to say. He was blonde and tanned, and I swear he had a crush on Mindy Kosaka.

Where he is now: He's a pothead or something. Most likely drugged up in my suburb attending community college high.

2nd Grade: Don't remember. I can guarantee you it didn't work out though.

3rd Grade: Mike Woods.

He was from the east coast. He was Different. He was Unlike Any Other Boy At School. This translates into he had a ponytail, and a weird accent. I sat next to him for a month and I thought I would die from happiness every single day.

Where he is now: No clue. He moved back to the east coast though.

4th Grade: I think this is when I liked Cody Berman, who incidentally went to my preschool. The only thing I can think of why I liked him was because he was funny and cute.

Where he is now: Probably with Nicky Thomas.

5th Grade: This is when I met the Roitstein twins, Andrew and Matthew, through my sister, who was in 7th grade at the time. Andrew was funny, tall, talented, and still is. He had a crush on my sister, I had a crush on him.

Where he is now: Juilliard. Actually, soon to be in Chicago this weekend. Sorry Andrew, I got over you.

6th Grade: Rhett Hornberger

He played the DRUMS. And he had LONG HAIR. Plus, if you do that "true love" equation thing with our names, we totally ended up about 110% meant for each other, because he has fit nearly every damn vowel from "true love" into his name.

Where he is now: I seem to recall remember seeing him with ginormous expander earrings straining in his earlobes and with shaved arms, like a seal. He lifted lots of weights in high school.

7th-8th Grade: I had enough sense to realize that with braces adorning your teeth, you should not even open your mouth to talk or eat, but rather carry around a whiteboard and be tube-fed.

7th-8th grade was a God-awful time for me.

9th Grade: I think this is when I should stop using names. HA! HA! OR NOT!

Paul Strickland. He had a crush on my sister.

Where is he now: Gay. And living with his parents.

10th Grade to an obscenely long time sometime last year: THIS is where I'll stop. Sometimes I use less than 1/18 of my brain for thinking than the average person.

Now: *withers...dies...crashes* Forget it, Adrianne. After watching the top 101 Hottest Bodies show before falling asleep on Tina's bed this afternoon and seeing what's going on the meat market recently, I see I have no chance.

Thanks, Michael Werno.

*Heaves world weary sigh and shakes head forlornly*

In short, there is this very wise saying my 12 grade English teach always said that you can't make the round peg fit into the square hole. Or the square peg fit into the round hole.

Lesson: I have to get rid of a big chunk of my research paper. Namely, I am only going to use half of my idea for the thesis, in hopes that writing each word will not make me sweat blood bullets or make me wish I could perform operations on myself that would make me permanently mentally and/or visually impaired. And maybe I would get more than 2 pages a day written.

For tonight, though, I'm going to sleep.

Here are some pictures: