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A (Very) Brief History of…the Last Two Weeks

August 16, 2010

The last two weeks have been crazy.

I say this in part to apologize for my (long, long) absence from blogging and in part to beg for sympathy as I wade through syllabi and moving bins.

Last Thursday, I made my way up to Starkville to sign some paperwork for my new job as a graduate assistant (read: low-level English teacher). On my way, I decided to drop off my rent check.

Time for some math. I walked out of the door at 3:45. The English Office closes at Five. The Realty Office closed at the same time. If I dropped off my check first, I’d have plenty of time to go to the English Department and sign all necessary paperwork.

Cue my car accident.

See? No damage!

Now, when I say this, it sounds awful, but it was in fact, only a fender-bender. And by that, I tapped the bumper of the car ahead of me and left very minor damage to their car and none to mine.

We pulled off the highway into a nearby parking lot where I waited, in terror, for the occupants of the other car to confront me. There was enough damage for us to call the police and spend several agonizing minutes waiting (that was mainly me, I believe).

The cops came and after a half hour of checking drivers’ licences and insurance cards, he asked if the other car even wanted to report this because of the serious lack of damage. To my elation, they said no and I got my ass out of there as soon as possible.

This was my first accident (with another car) and I got incredibly, incredibly lucky. To top it all off, I managed to drop my check off and make it to the English Department to fill out my paperwork.

I did, however, realize that I needed to submit a voided check. This would be so much easier if I had checks.

As I passed through campus, I caught sight on the crumbling dorm that they started tearing down the week before.

I don’t know why they waited so long to start tearing this building down but at least they are finally doing it. Let’s just say that it had a rat problem.

Even though my accident turned out to be okay, I had driven up all day to come home to a hot-as-hell house, fill out a bunch of paperwork, and run errands. It had not been the best day I ever had and despite the fact that I was short on money, I decided to get McCalister’s to try to make up for such an awful day. It wasn’t until I got home (on the other end of town) that I realized not only had they overcharged me, but they gave me completely the wrong order. And I must say, whoever’s order I got? Had horrible taste. There was, however, a cup of soup that made the seventeen dollar fiasco a little bit better. That, and Psych came on that night.

The next day I slept in, puttered around the house, and got a free meal at McCalister’s (and the order was actually right this time). I cleaned my room a bit before heading back to Jackson.

The Trace

My grandparents came over two days after I got back and my mom and I went crazy cooking dinner. We made bruschetta, Mushroom Chicken, and Cream Brulee. The meal seemed like a hit and even Ben called it one of the best meals we’d ever made. We had a great time talking, playing word games, and talking about the best way for diabetics to commit suicide (death by Twinkie, thank you Granny).

Most of the time before I came back to Starkville was spent either cleaning, doing laundry, of railing against the Gods that summer vacation has to come to an end sometime.


All Boxed In: Oxford, Pt. Three

August 6, 2010

On the last day in Oxford, we slept in. All the way to 9:30 AM! Unfortunately, in my sleep-deprived and sweat-soaked state, my noncommittal mumblings as we headed back to the hotel were construed as a “no” to the question, “should we go to BBB tomorrow morning before our walkthrough?”


I wasn’t feeling well that night, so in retrospect, it was probably for the best.

Side Note: I saw one of my professors in the English office yesterday and amongst the idle chat, she mentioned that she had read an article that stated that the only thing more physiologically stressful than moving was the death of a parent. For some reason I can believe that.

Ben’s tour went great and he loved the house. It is a two-story town house ten minutes off campus, with yellow walls and wood floors downstairs. The master has its own bathroom and a balcony as well as being fairly large. The other two rooms, however, leave something to be desired. But all in all, the house gets the Lisa stamp of approval (for whatever that’s worth).

We hung around the house for a bit just looking around and making plans for the move. The house had just come on the market and had only a cursory glance by the realtor. The walls needed to be touched up from the last owner and the painters had come early to try to finish before we moved in. It wasn’t until later, however, that we realized they painted the upstairs bedrooms (which were a standard taupe) with the yellow from the downstairs, creating a sickly, streaky off-color blend of yellow and taupe. Calls were frantically made and we were promised they’d be back to fix it.

As the painters were still there, we decided we were unable to move Ben’s things in so we decided to head out to lunch. Oxford, a Southern Mecca of delectable dinners, is also home to some…less than reputable eateries.

And that includes China Royal.

Aren't you jealous? Yeah, neither am I.

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You Got It, Baby I Want It…Deep Fried: Oxford Pt. Three

August 2, 2010

One of the solutions offered by the rental company involved looking at another one of their available houses. Ben picked us up from the hotel and took us past hills and fields and oddly named auto dealership. The house, a townhouse very much like our’s in Starkville, actually looked really nice. We haven’t been able to see the bedrooms (or, you know, inside past peeping through the blinds), but it has definite potential. Especially since the last house (currently still occupied by ECL) was not in the best location. The townhouse is about ten minutes off campus and we’ll get to see it tomorrow at nine.

Afterwards, we headed back to the hotel for more downtime. We hadn’t eaten lunch (as we had a fairly large, late breakfast), but Lauren and I were feeling snacky. While debating on what to do, Lauren came across the most brilliant solution: the Heavy Chevy. The Heavy Chevy is an Oxford staple, nicknamed as such due to the deep-fried nature of all of its food. Faced with the greasy glass window peering into the crispy golden heaven that is the Heavy Chevy’s food counter, we chose randomly and smartly.

Two chicken-on-a-sticks, one fried (of course) burrito, and one chipito (a longer, cheese filled version of the traditional taquito filled with chicken). We brought our haul back to Lindsay to split. She was shocked by the amount of grease on the bag alone, but I saw no leftovers afterwards. I am glad I could introduce them to such an Oxford landmark.

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Bigger, Badder Breakfast: Oxford, Pt. Two

August 1, 2010

We woke up way too early this morning to get ready to go to breakfast and get a head start on packing Ben’s stuff and putting it in the truck. We left the hotel early so I could make a quick trip around campus.

We stopped by my old dorm first. I lived on the 7th floor of Stewart along with what had to be the evicted population of Joe’s Apartment. Let’s just say that I think I slept in the middle of my (thankfully single) room for the majority of my Freshman year.

Next, we drove by the Union. As pretty as the Ole Miss campus is, our Union kicks this Union’s 1970’s ass. Nuff said.

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Oxford Ahoy! Pt. One

August 1, 2010

This weekend (this long, long weekend) I went to go help my brother move from his condo to a house. I went up Friday afternoon for dinner and “packing” (which, for all intents and purposes, involved a lot of sitting around/watching my brother play video games/watching tv lightly peppered with the occasional box packing).

To preface, I briefly lived in Oxford during my Freshmen year at Ole Miss (before I transferred to State), and as such, I am well aware of the veritable buffet of dining options. But because I haven’t been here in a number of years, new restaurants were bound to pop up.

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Financial Woah!

July 29, 2010

Lauren, over at GeezieCreezie, reminded me (oh so subtly) that my punk ass hinted at future posts that never materialized. Well, here they are.

Also, as this will be an image-light post, enjoy this picture of a cat:

As a newly semi-independent graduate, I am facing a myriad of financial aid decisions by myself. Of course, I’ve gone through the pain of FAFSA each year, filling out the endless questions about income and tax forms and dependency status, but this is the first year I’m filling this form out as an independent. And I gotta say, there is nothing more depressing that being able to skip the income section all together because I have none. Income, that is. There is nothing like an empty form to remind you how broke you are.

As I often find that music motivates me, I could not help but crank up Three Dog Night’s “One is the Loneliest Number” as I soldiered through each zero.

Of course, one of the reasons I am so broke is due to my love of music. In addition to my constantly swelling iTunes bill, I’m going to several concerts in October that, while cheap, weren’t free. Vampire Weekend and Beach House, Matt and Kim, and MGMT all back to back promise to be a tiring but awesome month.

And all of this plus my love of Etsy equate to a depleted bank account and a full room.

If you are new to Etsy, it is a fantastic way to discover new artists and artisans. I lean towards prints, but I’ve discovered anything from dishes to clothes to stationary (and that isn’t touching the horrors of “Regretsy”). My most recent love? Leah Duncan’s amazing shop full of gorgeous prints and fabrics. You’ll be seeing this print soon:

as well as any others I can afford.

God, I need a job.

The Creature From the Bag Lagoon

July 28, 2010

Like Fort Knox, I guard my bag fiercely. Unlike Fort Knox, I carry it around with me. And like any girl, I swap between an assortment of bags without purging, cleaning, or even really looking at said pile of crap before moving it.

I tend to be neat, but I accumulate a shocking amount of items with increasingly faulty logic (but what if I need it?).

So, for the first time ever, I am sharing the contents of my bag. Because it really, really needed to be cleaned out.

As a good bibliophile, I go everywhere with a book. As a pre-TLC hoarder, I usually carry anywhere from two to four. I reason each book by differentiating genres, such as novels (Ames’ Wake Up, Sir!), essays (Didion’s Slouching Towards Bethlehem), and, for a stretch, humorous essays (Hornby’s House-Keeping Vs. the Dirt). I usually only carry one book of essays while the other book is a collection of short stories or poetry. I also carry a random assortment of pens and a blank book (handmade, which I bought from Williamsburg).

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