Wednesday, June 29, 2011

Facebook-less Life

I gave up my Facebook for the summer.  I'm not one of those who rails against the damn thing, it's dead useful for organizing birthday parties and determining if the guy you gave your number to has a girlfriend.  However I, Ashley, have been spending more and more time filling my brain with trivial information about people I don't know very well, and since I have no self-control whatsoever I have cut off my addiction at the source.

Day One: I missed it.  I felt the need to know what everyone ate for dinner, who was wailing over an INSANE amount of homework for a summer class, and who needed a drink because something happened to make them acutely aware of how much their job sucks.
Day Five: I don't miss it.

I have been filling my days with reading books (most good, some not so much), watching Mad Men, and doing crossword puzzles.  Mostly reading.  I found a couple of stories that captivated me and have been devouring them for the past week.  It reminds me of how I used to read all the time in elementary school.

When I say all the time, I really do mean it.  I read every possible free second of every day.  I read on the bus to school (resulting in nausea), I read during lunch rather than talk to other kids, I read at recess, I  would slip my books into a larger textbook and read during class.  There's even a picture of me at a swim meet with my cap on, suit soaking wet, wrapped in a towel with a book in hand.  I was teased pretty severely for it, but only two or three times because for all my dorky tendencies I had no timidity and the other kids figured out quickly that teasing me only resulted in scathing retorts and the occasional ineffective punch.

It really got out of hand though, on one occasion when my second grade teacher asked me a question during class.  I responded with shushing her and holding up a finger until I finished my paragraph.  Only then did I put down my "textbook," sigh, and say, "What was the question?".  We had a parent-teacher conference with that poor teacher in the next few days and a deal was struck in our household.  If I  wouldn't act like a snot-nosed brat for the rest of the school year, I would get an American girl doll.

Those suckers costed like $80, and was a true testament of how out of control my sass was.  My parents were appalled by my lack of respect for the teacher.  I distinctly remember earnestly telling them that the teacher wasn't smart (something I doubt was true) and that I had already figured out whatever boring thing she was teaching (this was true), I just didn't hear the specific question asked of me.  To this day my parents shake their heads over the time when they had to result to bribing me to read less.  I behaved myself, or at least enough so the teacher didn't let on to how much she despised me, and got my doll.

I never know how to conclude a blog post... I feel like I should end with words of wisdom, only I'm not wise and anyone saying otherwise at 23 is a moron.  So I guess I'm just regressing back to my childhood: no Facebook, and loads of reading.

A really good day.

If you don't know what this is, I can't help you. 

Friday, June 24, 2011

Five Good Things

5.  Sabra chipotle hummus.  I am living proof you can be 23 with no major medical problems and exist off of the dream diet of a six year old.  Cookies for dinner?!  Sure.  Ice cream for breakfast?  Why not?!  Pizza three times a week?!  Heck yeah!  Chipotle hummus sort of ruins that, though.  It's great for those of us who cannot cook.  I can be trusted to open a container of hummus and a bag of tortilla chips and devour the contents of both whilst laughing until I cry at Jon Stewart.
4.  Reading Chekhov on the Metro.  I look so ridiculosly stupid in my sundress reading translated Russian plays and chewing on my braid.  However, I get motion sick pretty easily while reading except when underground, so I'm grateful for any time I am able to spend in transit with words.
3.  The first Hunger Games book.  I admit it.  I read them all like the love-crazed teenager I am constantly mistaken for in like two days.  And they are awful.  And I'm so Team Peeta.
2.  My friends being super successful.  Tjaden just got cast in a musical in 'Bama after slaughtering her senior recital (not to mention meeting the love of her life), and Ev, Laur, and Katie ALL got hired by Fairfax County Public Schools in the past few weeks as music teachers!  Sarah was cast as Cinderella in Cenerentola (Italian for Cinderella) in a summer production after completing Year One of her Masters Degree at UMich, Shan is in rehearsals for Hairspray as Tracy at the top community theatre in the area, and Steph never ceases to amaze me with the things she is GIVEN at her work (like snacks and Cirque tickets), where she makes loads of money.  Oh, she got a nice fat scholarship to law school too.
1.  Harry Potter and the Deathy Hallows Part 2.  My ticket was $4.50.  Pottermore was such a letdown though.  Ms Rowling really disappointed us there.

Wednesday, June 22, 2011

I have two talents when it comes to car trips

and they are both equally useful.

1.  Getting motion sick.
2.  Sleeping in the backseat.

I went on a two day trek around Philly and the cute suburb Manayunk (Yes.  Man-uh-yunk.) with the other  members of Mouse House and was able to utilize both of my car skills.

Meet Andi:  She's the dad of our house.  She drives the car, organizes the fun-tivities, and makes sure we remember the tastiest snacks.
And Steph:  She's the mama of the house.  She navigates the car, keeps Dad awake while he drives, and remembers to do things like empty the dishwasher.
Also Kate:  She's the seeeeeester.  She's forced to sit in the backseat and tries to ignore her younger brother whilst reading books about medieval times.  She is also best at girl things like lipstick and accessorizing pretty outfits.
Finally, Ash:  She's the little brother.  She sits in the backseat and pulls on her face while Kate reads, eats so many snacks she feels queasy, and then spends the rest of her time in the car alternating between willing the contents of her stomach to stay put and sleeping against the window.

There was another memorable incident where I drove to Nashville with two of my friends our junior year of college.  We had exactly eight hours to do an eight hour drive, meaning no "extra" stops for things like feeding me or peeing.  Shan threw a tray of six cinnamon buns in the backseat and I ate all of them.  Actually, what I would do is eat one, scream along to the radio while kicking my legs in the air and undulating the rest of my body like something from an exorcism for twenty minutes, and then fall asleep for an hour or so.  Wake up to eat another giant cinnamon bun, aaaand repeat.  Six times.

We went to Philly to see
Florence + the Machine

Car < Plane < Train < Trains with Beds.  Bacon's Theory of Travel

Sunday, June 19, 2011

The Last Four Days

You would think this post would be boring.  It isn't.  Doesn't even include errrythang.

-woke up at 5:30, remembered why I am crazy in love with mornings
-ran a mile and a half in flip flops to catch a bus to NYC
-saw Carey Mulligan in Through a Glass Darkly and was filled to the brim with admiration for that woman's skill set and renewed desire to act
-Megabus broke down 30 mins outside of NYC and Kate and I ended up playing games and acting like morons for the seven hour stretch on a bus.
-Rewarded our exemplary behavior with T-Bell

-woke up early again, went running for the first time in ages
-went to the dermatologist because it turns out I am severely allergic to my new moisturizer and my face looked like I had been attacked by a wild animal
-had two iced coffees and ran around like a hyperactive four year old
-sprained my ankle during a fight call (30 mins prior to the show)
-did a show
-went out with Kate and our friend/coworker Will and heckled talentless karaoke singers
-gave the dreamy bartender my number (he asked) and texted Sean/Shawn for a bit
-watched my ankle swell up to the size of a house pet and was rendered one-legged in a deluge

-read the second Huger Games book (no idea what it's called) because I was horizontal for the majority of the day in the hope of regaining the ability to walk
-had to have my dad bring me a sandwich because I was out of food.  As close to literally as a human being can get.  I had two pudding cups, a third of a jar of salsa, and a Snickers bar.
-went to the doctor to have him project fractured foot (whoops)
-was spoken to so rudely on the phone by the radiology receptionist that I hung up on her and vowed to never darken the radiology doors
-miraculously regained the ability to walk
-did a show
-went out and danced until 3 with an ankle brace on

-sat on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial until 4; mulled "The Conspirator"
-went home at 6AM and slept til noon
-was delighted by my continued ability to walk
-read the third Hunger Games and decided the only decent book was the first
-went to a barbecue with a large portion of my family members
-closed a show attended by a large portion of my family members
-ate fro-yo with Shan and Ev
-killed the battery in my parents car

-screamed and leapt a lot whilst learning to how jump an automobile with Shan and Ev
-Dad's Day :)

Tuesday, June 14, 2011

The BEST Worst Bus Ride in the History of Mankind EVER WOW



I use public transit on a daily basis, generally to cart my ever-expanding butt down to gentrified South Arlington for rehearsals/performances of a play.  The premise of said play is a surf-obsessed teenager with multiple personality disorder (yours truly) reeking havoc on Malibu Beach in the 1960's.  It's dreadful, but fun.  More on that later.  However, it's about a 30 minute bus ride and the most eventful trips have simply been ones where my iPhone doesn't have enough juice to fuel 30 minutes of the Lady Gaga Pandora station.

Until Saturday.

About five minutes after crossing over Route 50 (meaning, we are in SOUTH Arlington, now y'all!!) the man behind me starts howling.  I do, in fact, mean howling.  Like a wolf.  At the moon.  At an alarming volume.  He proceeds to do this for a full block.  Just as the rest of the bus begins to grow uneasy and the driver looks warily into the rearview, Lupin stifles himself and goes back to sitting placidly, staring out the window.  Strike one.

Until he "spies" his friend, Clyde.  The siting of his friend out the bus window inspires homeboy to leap to his feet and bellow out the window to him.  Naturally, as Clyde may or may not know the whereabouts of his keys.  "CLYDE!!!!  CLYYYYYYDE!!!!!!!!  CLYYYYYYYYYYDDEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!  YOU GOT MY KEYS?!?!   NAWWWW CLYDEE WHERE MY KEYS AT?!??!"    I turn to see why on EARTH this psychotic wolf man thinks he can bellow through the closed window of a moving vehicle and note that there are no pedestrians to be found anywhere along the street.  Strike two.

About two minutes later I realize there is a faint smell coming from behind me, and I have a headache.   It takes me a second or two to realize that the smell is weed.  Because Coyote Crazy has lit a joint on a public bus.  The bus driver realizes what's going on approximately three seconds after I do, immediately pulls the bus over and shouts, "NIGGA YOU BETTA PUT THAT SHIT OUT ON MY BUS".  The only Caucasian, and one of three women on the bus, I cannot control my laughter at this point.  This fact is only increased when Nutters McGee keeps calling the bus driver "Champ" like he's on his nephew's t-ball team.

Finally, he gets off the bus at a house that I insist to all my friends is "The Wire" House; a complete shithole in the middle of a freshly re-built, yuppified area with a giant ghetto van with two element-exposed teddy bears perched atop the back.  Because the bears are blatantly stuffed full of crack or nanny cams, duh.  As he leaves, he accidentally brushes the man in front of me with his elbow and as he slurs "Sorry, Champ, sorry," the other man leaps to his feet, snatches Crazy Man's elbow and hisses in his face "You better not touch me, fool, or I'll stab yo' ass.  I got a blade.".  Crazy babbles incoherently as he backs off the bus.  The rest of the bus sits in absolute silence and watches as Stabby Joe moseys to the front of the bus and assures the exhausted driver, that he "woulda stabbed that stupid mothafucka, but you can't be doin' that in fronta woman and children".

He gets off at the next stop.

This ride sooo beats the time a handicapped man sang a Salt-N-Peppa refrain for ten straight minutes only pausing to inhale.