Confessions

1. Today, for the first — and hopefully, last — time in my life, I used the phrase “butt out” in an essay.  It was my Latin American History final exam essay question, to be exact, and the more I wrote, the angrier I became at the way the U.S. has treated Latin America throughout the years.  I wanted my conclusion to be some sort of heated statement about how the U.S. needs to clean up its foreign policy, and for some reason, the only way I could think to express that was to essentially say that the U.S. should “butt out” of Latin America.  I debated writing this, sitting in a classroom at 9:30 a.m., flipping through the scribbled-on pages of my blue book.  And then I decided that the rest of my essay was solid enough that two words of the conclusion wouldn’t affect my grade, and that my professor was young enough and lighthearted enough to appreciate a little coarse humor, and that it was 9:30 a.m. and I was past caring about niceties anyway.  So I laughed to myself, turned the darn thing in, and went home.

2. Although I use both frequently, I honestly don’t think I have a firm grasp on the difference between a colon and a semicolon.

3.  Sometimes I buy people gifts that I actually want myself.  Sure, I only buy them when I know the recipients will actually enjoy said gifts, but beneath all of that holiday spirit is a selfish desire to give a gift simply so that I can be in close proximity to said item without the guilt of having bought it for myself.

4.  My room is a disaster, tra la tra la.  It’s actually become hazardous: I slipped on a scarf a few minutes ago and was sure that my left wrist would not survive.  Luckily, I grabbed on to my drying rack at the last second and regained my balance.  It should also be noted that said drying rack has been “drying” the same five red shirts for about a week now.

5.  I’ve been on a serious grapefruit kick lately.  I don’t know if the stress of finals is making me crave immunity-boosting citrus or what, but I swear I could actually feel myself going through withdrawal yesterday when I ran out.  Is drool a sign of grapefruit withdrawal?  Okay.  Don’t answer that one.

6.  As soon as I go home for break (I’m aiming for Sunday afternoon or Monday morning), I plan on diving into the most sentimental, comforting books I own.  Little Women, Anne of Green Gables, etc. I saw a quote the other day that said, roughly, “Life’s too short to read the same book twice.”  I couldn’t disagree more wholeheartedly.  I say, “Life’s too short to force oneself to read a new book when one really wants to read Little Women for the twentieth time.”

7.  Finals update:  Only one 10-page paper left.  Yes, that’s a lot of pages.  No, I haven’t started the actual writing yet.  Yes, I will be locked in the library tomorrow.

Thursday in Two Parts

You’ll hear me talk about this a lot, but I’ve always known Thursdays to be spectacular.  There’s just something about them.

Maybe today’s general splendor had to do with the fact that yesterday, a compadre of mine posted on Facebook that he was at the Sherman Alexie meetngreet.  I immediately commented, practically offering him my soul in exchange for an autograph.  And you know what?  I found out today that he got it.  I have yet to see the dear thing, but rest assured, it will soon hang (framed, probably) above my bed.  This is meant to read as inspirational, not creepy, by the way.  I admire him as a writer, you guys.  Yes, I may want to marry him.  But only a little.

Continuing with the spectacular theme (albeit a different kind of spectacular), and for those of you who seem to like my Clumsy Barista sagas a little too much, here’s an incident that happened today:

Someone asked for a Mint Cooler, except they didn’t want coffee in it.  Okay.  White chocolate powder and a few pumps liquid white chocolate into the blender.  Stir with spoon until mixture resembles thick icing.  Then decide to let machine do the work; press ‘blend.’  Machine coughs twice and then comes to a sludgy-sounding stop.  The sticky white chocolate mass has jammed up the blade.  What now?  Clearly we need some liquid in this thing, or it won’t work.  Dump out goo.  Try again with more liquid white chocolate, less powder.  Feel nauseated by the amount of sugar in this drink.  It doesn’t work anyway;  dump into sink, spilling a little.  Girl who ordered this disaster, who is waiting good-naturedly, trying not to laugh, tips me off that when other baristas make this drink for her, they usually just use milk instead of coffee.  Oh.  Milk, white chocolate powder, white chocolate liquid.  Blend.  Perfect.  I give her a few extra Andes Mints on top to make up for her ten minute wait.  Consider eating one myself, but it’s Lent, and some bozo decided to give up sweets.  A rush starts up then, and I am kept busy until my replacement arrives and laughs at my mess: one gummy blender, one counter streaked with white chocolate powder, four Andes wrappers, several dirty spoons, a puddle of whipped cream and a half empty gallon of skim.  I tell her I’ll clean it up.  She looks relieved.