[Insert Adage About Raining and Pouring]

Dear Readership,

You know those days that just aren’t that great and no matter what you do you can’t seem to make them better?

I have a lot of those.

Wednesday was not one of those days.

Wednesday was the kind of day that was so jam-packed with irritatingly bad nuances that it should be expunged from the annals of history (not to mention my life) so I can avoid intense trauma therapy.

It all started with a final presentation (doesn’t it always?) that I had to give right on the heels of a 24 hour throw-up virus. I had been up until about 2am the night before frantically cutting it down because we had a hard and fast 9 minute deadline (speaking of, who the heck makes a presentation deadline 9 minutes? That’s the most maddeningly odd number. Would 10 have killed ya?) and mine was a solid 14 minutes long. I spent the wee hours of the morning cutting out slides willy-nilly before deciding to take the L if it wasn’t good enough and passing out.

Wednesday dawned and I had had about 5 and 1/2 hours of sleep which I know is not that little, but I’m a strict 8 hours kind of gal. Anything less and I turn into a gremlin-like she-monster — malicious and more than a little ugly. I begrudgingly rolled out of bed and began to make myself presentable. It didn’t require a lot of mental energy (thank goodness) because I have exactly one presentation worthy outfit (a gray knit dress, purple tights, and some killer cute heels). Unfortunately, my dress was hanging next to the DampRid in my closet (because, you know, everything I own gets covered in mildew if I don’t hang that water-sucking, chemical-laden bag in there too) and it now pungently reeked of fake floral cleaner. I didn’t have time to scrounge together another semi-professional outfit so I spritzed myself with some extra body spray (as if that would help) and ran out the door. It had been in the 50s for a few days, so I felt like I was wearing a reasonably weather-appropriate outfit; however, when I stepped outside I was dismayed to discover that it was below freezing and not likely to warm up much past that all day.  So I hobbled — half-frozen — to the bus in my completely impractical outfit, and then proceeded to have one of the longest, busiest days on my feet that I’ve had this entire semester. Parts of it were really cool (like attending the raising of the Eastern Band of the Cherokee flag ceremony in the student union), but they were overshadowed a little by the fact that my feet were swollen from marching around a mountain in heels for nine hours, by having hives on my hands and face from the unexpected cold, and by the rash developing on my belly from my DampRid-soaked dress.

All days must end, however, and my incredibly looong day finally did too. I put on my comfiest slippers to appease my poor feet and decided to reward myself by buying a McDonald’s ice cream cone on the way to study at my boyfriend’s house. I pulled into the drive thru, rolled down my window, and *THUNK* it broke. The pane had detached from whatever mechanism roles the window up and down and fallen down inside the door. What was the worst part about all of this?

It was really hard to enjoy my ice cream cone while being pounded by the cold night air.

But broken windows are just a part of the adventure of driving a clunker, right? I could get through this. All I had to do was bundle up and blast the heat whenever I drove until I could figure out a good way to rig a cover. I convinced myself that all would be well and was determined to be an optimist about it.

Little did I know a mini-blizzard was on its way the next day to dump nine inches of snow on Boone town and my lil ol’ windowless car…

If your Wednesday (or any day) was worse, please, do share.

Until next time,



Merry Hanukhristmas

Dear Readership,

Two days ago my Holiday-loving, Mariah-Carry-Christmas-belting,  Jewish roommate (Olivia) and I embarked in search of a Christmas tree. We had received some very Southern directions (repeated to the second or third degree) to a Christmas tree stand “over yonder” that had cheaply priced trees and proceeds that went to a local homeless family. A good deal and a good cause? We were all about that! So we set out! Annnnd made it half-way to the Tennessee boarder before we realized we had probably gone too far. “Go a few miles past Mast Gap Rd” is definitely not an exact measurement, but “a few” also doesn’t usually mean 30 minutes in the car. We continued to wander in search of our glorious cause for over an hour before finally admitting defeat and deciding to buy a tree from Lowe’s.

Our MAX budget was $30, and let me tell you, there were some rinky-dink lil ol scraggly trees for $30 that made Charlie Brown’s Christmas tree look like a robust 7 foot fir. We were discouraged and starting to make our peace with buying an underwhelming tree when we found it. From its base to about five feet it was the fattest, fullest, most beautiful tree I had ever seen. Then it stopped abruptly and had only one lone naked branch sticking up to form the last foot of the tree. It was hideous. We loved it.  We crammed it in the back of her tiny Mazda and then picked up our other roommate (Tori) from campus and crammed her back there as well (bless her heart).

After we got home we braved our tiny, spider infested shed to retrieve the Christmas decorations (and by “we” of course I mean “she” while I stood at a safe distance moaning and nervously rocking back and forth in anticipation of a spider attack). The decorating of the tree commenced the next morning in our usual bickering/bantering style…

Olivia and Tori were going to wrap the lights around the tree (with Tori unraveling and Olivia placing them on the tree itself while I supervised) when I noticed Olivia start the strand in the middle of the tree…

Me: Don’t start in the middle, you barbarian.
Me: Fair enough

A few minutes later Olivia held up a strand of lights…

Olivia: Wow, this looks like a carbon chain!
Me: ….
Tori: Shut up.

Once we started putting the ornaments on the tree, I sat down to put the hooks onto the ornaments while Tori and Olivia put them on the tree…

Tori: I can take over putting the hooks on if you want to put some on the tree.
Me: Nah, that’s okay. I always put the hooks on growing up because the kids were too small to do it. It’s my own little Christmas tradition.
Olivia: Well, you’re a very good hooker, ur, hook-puter-on-er.
Tori: Haha….hooker.
Me: Thanks guys.

I love my roommates and their love of festivities. I love that Olivia loves to join in on our celebrations and is happy to share hers with us too. I love that we have her menorah and dreidel on the coffee table and that she happily answers whatever questions we can think to ask about how Hanukkah is celebrated. I love the sharing and mixing and observing of different holidays, cultures, and backgrounds. I love how much I’ve learned about Jewish customs since moving in with Olivia and how natural it feels to share and learn and experience with one another. So from our household to yours, Merry Hanukristmas.

Until next time,







A Nation Divided

Dear Readership,

I come before you with a heavy heart. A friend of mine and I recently got into a heated debate over a very polarized topic: does pineapple belong on pizza or not? This is an issue that has ripped our nation apart– pitting brother against brother and friend against friend.  I shall allow my “friend” to remain unnamed so as not to publicly shame him for his blasphemy, and will instead refer to him as The Unenlightened throughout the following exchange. Some context: this man is sassy, he is sarcastic, and he is ruthless (all of which are reasons why I love his company). So if you ever read a line and wonder, “Wait, is that sarcasm?” The answer is a resounding YES. Our conversation started innocently enough, but it went downhill very quickly…

The Unenlightened: You remember that time on August 5th I texted you and said I was 300 pages into the brothers karamazov? It’s now November 7th and I’m not even to page 500.
Having class is the worst.
Me: TRUTH! I currently have an overdue library book that I have had for about a month and a half (calm down, it’s only overdue by a week) and I have probably read a grand total of 15 pages. It breaks my heart
The Unenlightened: I’m glad you told me to calm down, I was about to absolutely lose my cool.
Me: I’m looking out for ya. Don’t want your blood pressure to spike too high over library book fees.
The Unenlightened: Careful, that thirty cents can be a backbreaker.
Me: You know what I could do with that 30 cents??
Leave it in the carpet of my car for the next 15 years with the rest of my loose change… but still. It’s the principle of it.
The Unenlightened: That’s your thirty cents to do what you want with.
That loose change comes in handy. Like when your campus ministry holds a coin drive for hurricane relief but it also serves as a competition to decide whether pineapple belongs on a pizza
Me: That is an oddly specific scenario
The Unenlightened: But a plausible one
Me: The more important question is did you uphold truth and righteousness? Or did you vote against pineapple?
The Unenlightened: On a related note, UGA ccf is officially against pineapple on pizza
Tell me you’re kidding
The Unenlightened: WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?
Me: Umm, I don’t have boring, old man tastebuds and appreciate complex variety in my food?
Me: Well, you know who hates pineapple on pizza? Communists… ya frickin commie
The Unenlightened: Communists don’t even have pizza
Me: You’re telling me. I mean, can you even call a pizza without pineapple on it a pizza at all??
The Unenlightened: You know where they don’t have pineapple? ANYWHERE PIZZA WAS INVENTED
Me: Oh, and expanding on a good thing to make it better is now inherently wrong?
The Unenlightened: Revelation 22:18 [NOTE: the verse says, “I warn everyone who hears the words of the prophecy of this scroll: If anyone adds anything to them, God will add to that person the plagues described in this scroll.”]
Me: Who hurt you so you couldn’t love?
The Unenlightened: I’ve tasted and seen the sweetest of loves. Pineapple wasn’t involved
Me: Then what you’ve experienced wasn’t love, only a mere shadow of it. You, my friend, are chained in a cave. You’re stuck thinking that your 2D world of gray and stone is all there is. If you could only break free and step into the real world, you would find the loving embrace of pineapple on pizza and the goodness of truth. ~direct quote from Plato
The Unenlightened: Guess what fruit wasn’t around in ancient Greece
Me: I’m sorry, WERE YOU THERE?

…. It was at this point that my friend and I stopped speaking to each other and haven’t spoken since. Is it too late for our relationship to be restored? Only time (and a major change of heart on his part) will tell.
I would tell you to chime in on the debate in the comments… but you either agree with me or you’re wrong on this one. So keep your hate to yourself. 😉

Until next time,


Hear ye, hear ye!

Dearest readership,

Welcome! I am reluctantly pleased to be stepping into the world of blogging. Blogs feel very 2002 to me and I have always resisted joining the the ranks of self-proclaimed internet experts due to the fact that I can only claim expertise in Netflix binges and drowning in exorbitant amounts of social anxiety. Seeing as how I doubt anyone needs counsel in either of these subjects, I’ve drug my feet on chiming in on the world wide web. However, a writing mentor of mine recently advised me to start and promote a blog to prove to future publishers that people don’t hate my writing. As someone who hopes to someday be published (if my poor neglected novel ever gets the attention it deserves), I’m not above jumping through some hoops and kissing some butts to make it happen. So here you are, a blog — to you, from me. It is founded on nothing but selfish, career-driven motives, but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless.

For those of you who are tuning in from Facebook, my blog will mostly consist of the same kind of content that you’re used to — more laughs at my expense due to my poor decision making skills and terribly awkward social presence. There will also be the same smattering of funny quotes and overheard conversations, the occasional short story, play, piece of art, etc.

For those of you who are new — thanks for showing up. How you found me I have no idea, but please, take your shoes off and stay a while. I’m the second oldest of seven sassy siblings, a frazzled college student on the verge of mental breakdown, and an incredibly nosy snoop who occasionally reports snippets of conversations that are none of my business. These are the primary sources for my material. I hope you like it.

In conclusion, I’ll leave you with this little anecdote in which my younger sister let her sassy flair shine:

Dad: *says jackass*
Jo (10): Ooooooh, you said a bad word.
Stepmom: The word ass is in the bible you know.
Jo: So is crucifixion, do you think that’s okay?
Stepmom: …

Until next time,