From 1930 until 2006, Pluto has been such a wonderful planet. He really never did anything wrong, but scientists have decided that he is not a planet. This brings up something very important: what will replace all of the great mnemonic devices that we all love? Personally, my favorite is: My Very Easy Method, Just Set Up Nine Planets. Incase your name is Cher Horowitz, the first letter of each word represents the order of the planets (i.e. My = Mercury, Very = Venus). So, I took the liberty of coming up with some of my own for the new "8 Planets."
Revolve in Peace, Pluto! We'll miss you!
Okay--I am so done (and not cut out for this).Maybe Viagra Erected Michael Jackson's System Until Now!
(or for a spanish twist of the above:)
Maybe Viagra Erected Michael Jackson's System Under Niños
Microsoft Viruses Entail Malicious Jewish Synagogues Unless Noted
Revolve in Peace, Pluto! We'll miss you!
A Day (and night) at UCONN
0 Comments Published by Mr. Zwiggy on Friday, August 25, 2006 at 12:49 AM.
You are about to read premium content. Seriously, I should charge a fee for these tips. Well, back on Earth, I present to you the 3 Tips for Moving in to a Dorm:
Finally, my younger sister is a senior at UCONN. Academically, that means it's her last year and that she has reached ultimate maturity as a campus resident. (I think I am quoting the "we only drink 5x a week, so join the majority..." Campaign.) In the mind of a college girl, however, being a senior means you get great apartments with your own bathrooms. Bring in the color palette. My sister went through 3 different color palates today, ranging from the violent pink to a calm beach scheme. And thus, to prevent 3 trips to the return desk of Bed, Bath, & Beyond, I present the first tip:
I can't really handle that.
I threw the Bed, Bath, & Beyond bag into the dumpster. A minute later, something strikes me as odd when I place garbage into our clean car. Uh-oh! I run back to the dumpster. Keep in mind--this is not an ordinary trash bin. Catering to like 100ish apartments, it was the size of a gas station. I climbed up the side to see if I could spot it from afar. No luck. My only remaining choice is to climb into the dumpster (yes, this is a true story), feet first. It was actually pretty easy, but then again, this is what college kids do for fun. (I obviously haven't hit that phase.) So there I am, a high schooler running around a giant dumpster looking for a bag that doesn't seem to exist. And on top of that, there are people coming down to throw trash into the bin, as well as a terrible odor. After a few minutes of digging, I find the bag and successfully return it to my now panic-stricken mother. It was all worth getting the bag back, but I lost a few hug opportunities :-(. Thus...
Oh, and congrats to my da-da for receiving the "Best Doctor in Bristol-Southington Area" award from a local newspaper (see the page). Mazel Tov!
Finally, my younger sister is a senior at UCONN. Academically, that means it's her last year and that she has reached ultimate maturity as a campus resident. (I think I am quoting the "we only drink 5x a week, so join the majority..." Campaign.) In the mind of a college girl, however, being a senior means you get great apartments with your own bathrooms. Bring in the color palette. My sister went through 3 different color palates today, ranging from the violent pink to a calm beach scheme. And thus, to prevent 3 trips to the return desk of Bed, Bath, & Beyond, I present the first tip:TIP ONE: Always have your color palette ready before furnishing and decorating.Now, to begin the day, I woke up at 8 A.M. Then, my mother came screaming through my door at 8:47 A.M. Okay, so maybe I like sleeping. I started to prepare breakfast, but then I learned we had arranged for a breakfast on the road at Lox, Stock, and Bagels. Fine... When we arrived at the bagel joint, I ordered an Iced Coffee. But, if any of my (few) readers know me well, they know I couldn't just order an Iced Coffee! It would have to be analyzed first. Sure enough, I find something worth reflecting upon. The small Coffee is $1.30, and the Iced Coffee is $1.50. "How ridiculous," I thought. Why should I pay twenty cents for ice, when I know they're going to rip me off anyway. Here's how the iced coffee system works: Nobody buys coffee on Wednesday except for some foreign girl studying for the bar exam, so there's lots of extra coffee. They stick it in a pitcher. Come Thursday, they fill a plastic cup with (94%) ice, then pour about 1 inch of coffee into the cup. Not only have you been ripped off, but you haven't gotten the caffeine intake that all Americans need (and deserve)! To show those tricky businessman who is boss, I ask for the ice in a separate container from the coffee. I was able to make 4 servings of Iced Coffee, and therefore...
TIP TWO: On a summer morning, ask for your Iced Coffee in two parts: one cup with ice, and one cup with coffee.Fast forward to about 10:30 P.M. I'm done with my Buffalo Chicken Pizza, and we're just about to leave. I've been assigned the task of transporting two bags: one containing garbage, and one containing towels and miscellaneous linens from Bed, Bath, & Beyond. Obviously, one goes in the dumpster, and one goes in the car.
I can't really handle that.
I threw the Bed, Bath, & Beyond bag into the dumpster. A minute later, something strikes me as odd when I place garbage into our clean car. Uh-oh! I run back to the dumpster. Keep in mind--this is not an ordinary trash bin. Catering to like 100ish apartments, it was the size of a gas station. I climbed up the side to see if I could spot it from afar. No luck. My only remaining choice is to climb into the dumpster (yes, this is a true story), feet first. It was actually pretty easy, but then again, this is what college kids do for fun. (I obviously haven't hit that phase.) So there I am, a high schooler running around a giant dumpster looking for a bag that doesn't seem to exist. And on top of that, there are people coming down to throw trash into the bin, as well as a terrible odor. After a few minutes of digging, I find the bag and successfully return it to my now panic-stricken mother. It was all worth getting the bag back, but I lost a few hug opportunities :-(. Thus...
TIP THREE: Always look at the garbage that you think your holding before placing it into a trash bin.I knew these would all be useful to my readers since they're so--err---common! Well, keep reading, because these tips could possibly improve next week.
Oh, and congrats to my da-da for receiving the "Best Doctor in Bristol-Southington Area" award from a local newspaper (see the page). Mazel Tov!
Is this the real life? Is this just fantasy?I can't begin to describe thge amount of sadness that my last summer at Eisner Camp creates. But, I can tell you that it's enough to bring tears to my eyes. Having returned on Sunday, the daily routines at home seem awkward and unwelcome. Brushing my teeth, for example, is strange: there are no puddles of water on the sinks, no battlepooping games, no missing towels. It's just plain strange. Yesterday, I felt incredibly weak and dizzy when I didn't follow the meal plan of Eisner (3 meals at 8am, 12:30pm, and 6pm). So, in both literal and figurative senses, Eisner has had a bag impact on me.
-Bohemian Rhapsody
People ask me to describe Eisner. That leads me to say, "it's a camp in the Berkshires." Then, people give a nod or some attempt at assuring me that they know what I am talking about. But they don't. Only those who actually attend Eisner can understand what it is. The words 'Maccabiah', 'Turkish Kiss', 'Camplified', 'Fake Break', and 'Noah's Ark' may have auditory value, but no emotional significance whatsoever. In a room of kids from my town, I am sure to be the only one to burst into tears when hearing a recording of Sufjan Steven's Chicago.
For those of you who have no idea what I am talking about (as I realize that most of this relates to myself), I just finished the final year as a camper at my sleepaway camp. Or as I like to call it: summer retreat. As part of being the oldest group of kids on camp, we particpated in a signifcant trip to Montreal, lead a color war, and finally reached the maturity to live in A-frame bunks. (In the real world, A-frame bunks would be considered a demotion--like from President to Apple Picker.) I've been going to this camp since 2001, and it has undoubtedly changed me as a person. I realized this one night when I stood on top of a hill (Olim Hill--OUR hill). It was empty, quiet, and strangely peaceful. I saw each part of camp glowing in its own way, and the past 6 years as a camper filled my body. I realized that I had reached the end.
I still miss that Kazakhstanian's PB&J....
