Category Archives: college

Winter Break Rant

It’s that time of year again. The weather is dreary and grey, Christmas music is blasting from the radio, everyone’s in a rush to prepare for the holiday season. Four glorious weeks of no class, no homework, and no papers. As much as I love this time of year, there is also a certain amount of dread that comes along with it…

I must confess, I really do not want to see many of the people that claim to want to see me.

Considering everyone who I was best friends with in high school attends universities outside of Louisville, I enjoy three-fourths of the year going through my own routine, with my own friends, doin’ my own thing. For 75% of the year my high school gal pals are nothing put a blip on newsfeed. Drama and distance has helped me grow out of them and into my own social circle.

Then why is it when Thanksgiving and Christmas break roll around certain individuals expect everything to go right back to where we left off senior year?  An ever bigger question, why do I feel obligated to keep up appearances? Honestly, I wouldn’t consider myself friends with half of these people that “can’t wait to hangout!”  True, there are a few that I keep in touch with and truly consider good friends, but I’m tired of trying to connect with people I’d rather talk about behind their back than talk to their actual face.
Am I the bitch here?

If I am, I’m cool with it, I guess.

 

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Leggings are pants. Shut up.

It’s about this time of year where I here this phrase at least once a week: “Leggings are NOT pants.”

I would just like to note, I have never heard this sentence uttered from a male body. Ever.

I don’t know why exactly, but there are a lot women out there who despise the legging and everything it stands for. Personally, I love them- hell, I practically live in them. They are comfy, and for a fairly skinny girl like myself, give me the appearance of a little more curviness than I actually possess.

I’ll admit, leggings are not for everyone, but for those of us that aren’t on the heavy side and are comfortable with a little cling, leggings provide a comfortable, fashionable alternative to jeans, slacks, and sweatpants. Dress them up or dress them down, leggings can add a femininity, edginess or class to any outfit. However there are a few cardinal rules for those of us who are comfortable with the fact that leggings are pants:

  1. Make sure your pair are completely opaque. No one wants to see what color underwear you are wearing when you bend over.
  2. There is such a thing as leggings that are too tight. Puckering at the seams  is a direct indication of this. You want your look to look smooth and put together, not sloppy.
  3. No unsightly camel toes allowed. Ew. See below for the horror.

Abide by those rules and you should be good to go.  I’ll have fun looking cute and curvy while the haters hate.

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Farting is still funny

Apparently the breaking news on last week’s batch of reality TV shows was that Nancy Grace let one RIP during her post performance interview on Dancing with the Stars. However, Grace denies that she perpetrated the colon calamity, and instead blames her partner, Tristan McManus.

Let’s go to the footage.

Really Nance? I think the evidence is all there and it’s all pointing to you

Exhibit A: At the beginning of the clip, Nancy has a generally uncomfortable look about her. As soon as Brooke points the mic in her direction, she takes a step backwards in order to position her bum as far away from the mic as she can without being too obvious.

Exhibit B: Nancy displays all the classic signs of trying to distract the audience from the sound that is about to come from her rear end. Her hand is positioned on her stomach. When she talks her voice gets a little louder, a little augmented, and she does this weird half bend  hoping to hold off the flatulence until the mic is out of range.

We all know the signs. We’ve all been there…well…we haven’t all been on caught farting on national television. That’s a chance you take as a public figure.

Exhibit C:  I think this picture speaks for itself.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Really, it just seems a like a hazard of the job. If your career consists mostly of appearing on TV, you’re bound to let one at some point or another. My only advice for Nancy Grace: Remember, whoever denied it supplied it.

 

 

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Outlook’s Good

If you have lived in Louisville long enough, the novelty of the Highlands on a Friday or Saturday night wears of pretty quickly. Traffic is slow, drinks are expensive, and the crowds at each bar are pretty well polarized.

However, there is a standout among the line of Irish pubs on Baxter Avenue: the gem that is Outlook Inn.

 

Situated on the corner of Christy and Baxter Avenues, for the last couple of weeks Outlook has been my home base Thursday night through the small hours of Sunday morning. It’s always my Plan B if other plans don’t pan out, and a great spot to start out the night. Not too trendy, not too hip, Outlook provides a happy medium for those that are looking for a casual, animated space to grab strong drink, talk with friends, maybe shoot some pool, and pick a few songs on the juke box.

The best part? No cover.

The other best part? The bathroom doesn’t smell like whiskey and vomit.

The other other best part? Made-from-scratch Bloody Mary’s…and super strong LITs…and $2 PBRs…and…do you really need another reason?

 

 

 

 

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Post 9/11

For the better part of last week I couldn’t help but be mesmerized by the 9/11 footage that was painted all over my TV screen. Unlike a lot of the other tragedies that have struck this country, practically the entire population waited and watched the horror unfold on the morning of September 11, 2001.

I was in 6th grade in 2001, and I had no idea what had happened until my mother picked me up from school and told me that some very bad men had crashed airplanes into to some very important buildings in New York and that a lot of people died.  At that point, I knew what had happened was really bad. I was only 12, but when I saw the footage of the smoking towers and their eventual collapse, it scared me. It broke my heart.

But now, watching the 10th anniversary specials has made the enormity of that tragedy so much more real. I watched people jump from hundreds of feet up in the air. I watched incredible real-time footage of firemen and volunteers searching through the smoking, jagged rubble looking for survivors, but only finding bodies, body parts, and charred remains. Families crying in the streets, talking to reporters while holding flyers with pictures of their missing loved ones.

9/11/01: Never Forget.

We can’t forget. We have it all on film.

We have so much of the attack and the aftermath documented, and it’s had a profound effect on me. I see clips of the debris and the fiery wreckage and I think: How did they know where to start? How did we ever get back to normal? And as much as I can find wrong with this country, the resilience of this country is something that inspires me. It is something that I am proud of.

 

What was:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

What will be:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

If you haven’t checked out the 9/11 memorial at ground zero or the plans for the new World Trade Center I highly recommend it. It’s amazing the time and thought that has been put in to honoring the victims at the WTC. You can find it here.

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It’s a car wreck, and I can’t stop watching. My love/hate of Jersey Shore

I used to be too good for the Jersey Shore.

I know! I can’t believe it either, but truthfully, I used to judge everyone else for devoting and hour a week to watch drunk, orange people act drunk and orange on national TV. I don’t know when it happened, but somewhere in the middle of season two I got over my “holier than yous” attitude and got curious.

I kind of hate myself for it, but after one episode I was hooked.

I don’t even like “reality” shows, and, really, this is the only one I watch (I swear!). So why do I feel the need to keep up with this alcohol, rage, and bad decision-filled display? I mean, honestly It’s the same story every episode.

This is what usually happened on any given Jerz-day:

Sam and Ron are together, and then there not. And then they are, and then Ron goes off into roid-rage land, and then they’re not again. Mike creeps on some ugly girls and is generally disgusting.  Deena falls down and cries about some poor decision she made last night. Snooki drinks some wine and burps. Vinny and his beard give commentary on the rest of the house, Pauly screams “YEAH BUDDY” thirty times,  and Jenny adjusts her boobs like this:

and remains the only one with a functioning brain.

And really that’s about it…give or take a few swings thrown and/or random girls in random beds throughout the house.

It’s weirdly exciting. Maybe it’s a vicarious thing. Maybe I love analyzing the sickness of Ron and Sam’s on/off non-relationship. Maybe I like to judge the random girls who come back to the house for one night stands (Don’t they know their parents can see this?). Maybe I just enjoy how stupid everyone is while hopped up on Redbull and vodka at 4 in the morning.

Whatever it is, they got me. Jerz-day is like the official start of my weekend. It permission to down shots of whatever is around and then look like a jackass while fist pumping the night away yelling CABS ARE HEEEEREEE. It’s a time to forget about class, work, general rules for living ,and watch pseudo-glamorous people live pseudo-glamorous lives and feel pseudo-glamorous right a long with them.

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DISLIKE: cigarettes

Like many smokers it seems like I’ve bee trying to quit since I started. I was 16, a junior in high school, and convinced that I looked much hotter with a cigarette in my hand blowing smoke out of my nose than I did without. Not to mention, I liked the Camel’s that came in the pink package that had the cute little pink camel on the filter. IT WAS PINK. It was practically asking me to buy it. It also helped that sweet Asaad at the Bardstown Rd. Smoke Shop never carded me or any of my friends. Thanks Asaad  16-year-old cleavage, thanks a lot.

That smoke shop is out of business now- just FYI.

All of my friends smoked then. All of them . It felt like we were getting away with something because we all knew our parents would flip if they found a pack just lying around in our room or in our purse. Eventually some of them wised up and kicked the habit,  and some of them still smoke a pack+ a day, but for me it’s been an on/off thing ever since. It’s like the bad boyfriend you can’t help but go back to time and time again. I hate cigarettes, HATE THEM, but it’s a social thing, it’s something to do. I can go a week without giving in, but then I get a couple of glasses of wine  in me on a Friday night and suddenly I feel a rush of how much I missed them and get this ironic notion that I can’t live without them.

A few reasons why I HATE cigarettes:

1. See those teeth? Is that cute? I had braces for 5 years. FIVE YEARS. Do you know how much money that is? How much time and pain and ibprofen I had to choke down to get this beautiful smile? I’ll be damed if I ruin it.

2. Smoking makes it really hard to breathe. Why does my usual workout kick my ass so much harder on Mondays? Because I’ve been busy sucking on cancer over the weekend just so I have something to do with my hands.

3. This is what I have to look forward too. If I don’t die from the various cancers, emphysema, or heart disease, I get to smoke out of my throat for the rest of my life? Doesn’t that sound like fun? No. It doesn’t. It sounds sad. Just put me down at that point, folks. You have my permission.

So please, if you haven’t started, don’t. If you have and I ask to bum, pretend like it’s your last one. I never take the last one. I’ll leave you with something that always makes me think twice before I light up:

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