Are YOU serious?

I've been staying up entirely too late these days. For those of you who know me well that isn't surprising. Every day I tell myself that tonight will be different and then midnight roles around and I still HAVE to do my laundry right then. At least that was the case last night. As for other nights, it's amazing how I can find ways to stay up.

Recent late night escapades:
1. talking on the phone with long lost friends
2. reading books that aren't assigned by my professors
3. watching TV shows about vampires that no one else will watch with me
4. stalking old and new acquaintances on facebook
5. reading other blogs (newest blog I found: www.provobuddyblog.blogspot.com)
6. grazing through the kitchen
7. laundering...clothes
8. note taking
9. list making
10. myspace investigating

Last Friday morning, my lack of sleep caught up with me. I woke up and for a second thought I was paralyzed. So I fell back asleep and skipped my tennis lesson. I woke up two hours later at 10:50. Normally, I would have panicked as I have class at 11:00 but I calmly threw myself together. I showed up to class sometime between 11:35 and 11:45 to find that my professor had lost his voice and it appeared that one of my classmates was designated as the discussion leader. She was rambling on and on about who knows what and I took the only seat open which was right next to her. She didn't seem to notice me as she was very involved in the discussion of some character's essence and the setting's aesthetic appeal and blah blah blah. I quietly pulled my books out of my bag and found the pen I had slipped into my messy pony tail on my way out the door. Before I could even write the date in my notebook, she, the current leader or perhaps self proclaimed leader and definite know it all, turned to me and said, "How do YOU feel about this, JENNA? Do you have anything you'd like to say?"

Shocked, I looked her right in the eyes and said rather coarsely, "Are you serious?"

The room was silent. I'm not sure anyone was breathing. She stared right back at me and for about 10 seconds neither one of us spoke. Finally, she broke the silence and mumbled something about how I looked like I might have something to add since I was sitting right next to her; it really made no sense and it doesn't particularly matter because the girl on the other side of me cut her off. In my defense she said something like, "I am taking a speech class right now and the way you asked that question to Jenna was exactly the way we learned not to when leading a discussion."

After that statement, there were a few more seconds of awkward silence. Then we moved on.

Later, during a class break (this is a 3 hour class), several of my peers congratulated me on my bold response. I can't take credit because I wasn't being bold or witty or anything out of the ordinary. My question in response to her question was a natural reaction.

So going totally against my current personal statement "don't force it," I will now try to give this pointless post a point:

A. Maybe I should go to sleep earlier in order to avoid awkward classroom situations. B. Maybe I should sleep more in order to tell more interesting stories on my blog.

If anyone has any ideas on how to force me to sleep besides drugs or throwing my computer out the window, please feel free to share.

Cheesy Snacks

Cheetos or Cheetoes?

Think about it.

Imagine?

I just dreamt that my eyebrows fell off because I rubbed them the wrong way.

I have two posts in the works and a third one in my mind. They will be posted shortly as in like the next few days.

In the meantime, check out my awesome new myspace page at www.myspace.com/jennakimjones

Lists

I recently realized, thanks to a long lost friend of mine, that I have a thing for lists. Here is a list of thoughts I made based on a list found in the book "The Mezzanine" by Nicholson Baker. (The book is awesome. People should read it.)



Subject of my thought (number of times this thought occurs during the year):

Carbonation: the need for the burn. (507)
How do you salt peanuts when they're still in the shell? (350)
Childbirth, my intense fear of. (300)
When my nose itches, is someone really thinking of me? (200)
OCD—am I? (180)
Death by roller coaster. (100)
Death by cab driver. (99)
Bob Saget. (96)
Rump Roast--really? (75)
FACT: brownie batter tastes better than baked brownies. (70)

P.S. Expect more lists in the future.

Weather Warning

I saw the biggest fly New York has ever seen.








I know, Tyra. I was shocked too. It would take a high speed giant medieval catapult fly swat to take that sucker out.

As I stared at the fly, I was increasingly concerned about the many pedestrians who may have left their umbrellas at home.

Here's why:

1. Every time a fly lands, it, pardon the word, poops, which is approximately every three seconds.

2. Nope, that's it. Number 1 is my only reason.

My roommate is a little paranoid but I saw that fly and I'm pretty sure it can't fit through the window.



Be careful out there. I would slip an umbrella in your backpack, purse, man-bag, whatever you carry, just in case.

Wow

Posting the previous post was the most difficult thing I've done all day.

Apples, Cupcakes and Global Warming

Last month my little brother and I went to Boston by way of the $15 Fung Wah Bus to visit my brother and his wife. Although we arrived late to catch the 5:30 bus leaving Manhattan and had to sit next to the bus bathroom, we made it to Boston in less than five hours, including the hour and a half of traffic we sat in getting out of whichever borough we drove through. When we arrived, my brother and his wife were there to greet us in their silver boat more commonly known as the Ford Taurus. We drove to their place, threw our stuff down, raided their refrigerator, and watched The Soup on TV as we fell asleep in their living room. We woke up the next morning ready for a day of Johnny Picking Apple Cupcakes. No, wait, that came out wrong. Apple picking and Johnny Cupcakes. Yes. That makes so much more sense.

After a hearty breakfast at McDonald’s, my brother suggested we go to a place called Carlson Orchards. It was, well, is a lovely orchard on a hillside or a mountain. The definition of mountains back east is much different than my home out west. When we arrived, we approached a wooden table occupied by two women in visors and a whole bunch of bags. We thought the older woman wearing a blue visor asked us if we wanted to pay first. My brother started to say he could pay before or after but she quickly shut him up with “That wasn’t a question. You pay first. The small bag is $12 and the big bag is $20.” The woman in the orange visor handed us the small bag and we scurried away and headed towards the rows of trees. This orchard had all kinds of apples; brae burn, gala, Macintosh, red delicious. First, I’d like to say that red delicious apple trees should be destroyed because it is common knowledge that red delicious apples are the grainiest, mushiest apples in existence and therefore are a waste of precious soil and water to grow. Talk about wasting our natural resources. (Of course, they are the only apples school cafeterias, including NYU dining halls, dishes out. No wonder kids hate healthy foods.) We picked mostly Macintosh and Gala but only after having a few sample apples between the four of us. I’m not sure we were allowed to sample but there seemed to be plenty of apples for all and we were definitely not going to ask those old ladies in their scary out of fashion visors (were visors ever in fashion?). My sister-in-law and I talked about all the delicious apple pies and crisps we could make but then realized they had a bakery on the premises so we headed there immediately after we filled our bag. Inside their little bakery, there were apples pies you could take home and bake. They looked ok. Costco apple pie probably tastes just as good.




They also had fresh apple crisp you could buy right there on the spot and EAT. Of course, I bought it, no questions asked, and no whipped cream on top. As I was about to enjoy the first bite of my apple crisp in the warm Styrofoam bowl (wait, I mean warm apple crisp in white Styrofoam bowl), I heard shouting from across the room. A Chinese woman (and yes she really was a Chinese woman, I’m not just shooting out Chinese as a wild guess) had two small bags, one was completely filled, and the other only had a few apples inside. She seemed to be confused about the price of the apples and must have suggested that she put back the apples in the slightly filled bag. The woman at the cash register immediately became furious and assumed the Chinese woman couldn’t understand what she was saying. She was yelling in her face, speaking slowly of course, and refused to listen to this obviously competent Chinese woman. So her English was slightly broken, there was no reason to shout. At least not yet. The Chinese woman, who up until this point had stayed quite calm, also began to lose it and started yelling back at the woman. Eventually they came to some sort of agreement. I think she put both contents of the small bags into one large bag but regardless, I had a hard time enjoying my apple crisp. Weren’t things always happy on the farm? The woman who served the apple crisp just looked at me and said, “We get this all the time. They always want to steal our apples.” They? Polite Chinese women try to steal apples? I highly doubt people want to steal bags of apples they just spent time picking. It was during this train of thought that I realized the woman yelling was the blue visor lady. I wonder if we looked suspicious. Maybe we looked like the kind of people who would sample apples. Is that why she made us pay first? Why didn’t the Chinese women have to eat (whoops) I mean pay first? And where are all the men in this story? And why haven’t I told you about the amazing apple crisp? Well mostly because, it was amazing apple crisp but could have been the most amazing apple crips I’ve ever eaten had it not been spoiled by the international incident that took place somewhere in the hills (or mountains) outside of Boston. We happily escaped that farm and I even took pictures.



I was, at that time, trying to impress a boy who lives in California. A few days before the trip, I received an e-mail from him informing me of some stores in Boston that he thought were pretty cool and insisted that I check them out. I forwarded the e-mail to my brother and sister-in-law to inform them that I thought this boy was totally weird. Of course, they interpreted the e-mail exactly how I wanted them to and we headed towards Johnny Cupcakes on Newbury St. in downtown Boston after the apple picking adventure. Newbury St. is a delightful, trendy, Soho-ish part of downtown Boston. There are designer shops, expensive candy boutiques, and semi-beautiful people eating eggs benedict and French toast wearing Harvard attire with their little dogs at their feet in their ridiculously expensive doggy purses. Needless to say, I liked, ok, almost loved it. Johnny Cupcakes was no exception. The place sold t-shirts, belt buckles, and little shorts that looked more like underwear. Maybe they were underwear, I don’t even know. The trademark for the place is a skull and bones but the skull is replaced by a cupcake.




It’s a cute place and I almost spent $35 dollars on a t-shirt that I could have probably made on my own. I decided not to buy it because I’m not at that point in my life where I can buy expensive useless t-shirts because I think they're cool. I can only pray that in a few years I will be at that point, but until then, I’d still rather eat next week. There was a t-shirt that I could have bought for $24 but then people would know if they ever visited the store, that I bought the cheaper t-shirt and I would not want that. All in all, the store was fine. It looked like a bakery and the shirts were stored in giant glass door refrigerators that weren’t really refrigerated. Underwear/shorts were stuffed in cupcakes holders. The concept was the perfect idea for a high-end t-shirt shop. I took my picture, which wasn’t my best photo, outside the store, smiling and pointing at the sign. I sent the photo to the boy who was probably impressed that I actually checked it out. I would be.



After apples and cupcakes, we ate at Texas Roadhouse, where, if you had a peanut allergy you might die. They give you unlimited buckets of peanuts and you can throw the shells on the floor! The ribs at this place are by far the best ribs I’ve ever had. The meat literally falls off the bone. No mess here. The side salad is amazing, especially with the honey mustard dressing. And the rolls, well, they are greasy and served with honey butter. Enough said, right? With a diet coke, there really couldn’t be a better Texas style meal, if that is really what they eat in Texas, of course. The name sort of makes me assume that anyway.

Overall, the best part of the trip was not getting the picture to impress a boy, not eating greasy delicious ribs, and not almost spending $35 on a Hanes t-shirt with a cupcake/pirate logo on it. Call me sentimental but the best part was riding the Fung Wah bus back from Boston with my little brother on Sunday afternoon. We spent the four hour journey making bad jokes about Global Warming which to be perfectly honest, neither one of us know that much about. What I do know, is that Al Gore, even if he is on to something, sure is an easy target.

This is my 6th attempt at blogging.

I am not very good at keeping up with blogs. Blogging is difficult and I give props to those of you out there who write posts regularly. My problem with starting a blog is the intense pressure I feel to be clever/witty in all of my future posts. That kind of pressure is hard to live with especially because it isn't possible to ALWAYS write something that will sit well with those who might choose to occasionally browse through. Also, I don't always know what to write about and don't like to waste time writing things I don't necessarily care about just to fulfill my duty as a blogger. Most blogs have a theme. I don't think I am going to choose a theme because that will only make me feel more pressure. So that being said, I've decided I am going to enjoy this blog as much as I can and write whatever I feel like. So there. Some of the posts might be past writing assignments that I like. Some of the blogs might be journal entries. Some of them might be funny things I hear or maybe even see. Who knows! This could be exciting! Even thrilling! This could be the start of something BIG!