Apples apples apples.

I know that earlier today (or possibly yesterday or the day before or any time in the last week, really) something happened that I wanted to write an entry about, but now all I can remember is that I was going to refer to someone as Guy McDude.

So instead, here is a boring conversation I had with the roommate a little while ago when we were comparing the apples that we own:

me: What kind of apples are they?
her: I don't know. My mom gave them to me. But I know I like this kind.
me: But shouldn't you know the name? Sometimes you can't tell what they are just by looking at them.
her: I like the round ones. Not the tall ones.
me: I like galas and granny smiths -
her: Those are green ones! I like green ones!
me: Golden delicious are greenish too. I don't like those.
her: I don't think I do either.
me: I like honey crisps.
her: I'll have to study the apples next time I'm at Meijer.
me: Are these apples from Michigan?
her: I don't know. My mom gave them to me.
me: (opens freezer) Hey! Can I have one of these ice cream bars?
her: I guess you can have the one that got all melted.
me: Yay!

I think the moral is that ice cream is better to eat than apples, although I ended up eating neither. Except I did eat apples earlier. But directly following this conversation, I ate grapes.

11:35 p.m.


(the-ordinary, 2005)

The-ordinary, K. (2005). Annotated Bibliographies Can Go Straight to Hell. Retrieved

September 25, 2005 from http://the-ordinary.diaryland.com.

In this article, the author clearly states her views on annotated bibliographies and laments the fact that she spent four years learning to cite things in MLA format only to arrive in library school and discover that it insists on APA format because it thinks that it is a science. As a science, the author finds library school to be marshmallow soft, certainly more soft than linguistics, the science factor of which she equates to the softness of creamy peanut butter. The author is certainly not an expert on this subject, and her complaints come off as whiny and a little angry, even though the fact that she did not notice that they assignment sheet specified an annotated bibliography until she thought she was entirely done with the assignment is completely her fault. The author should be thanking her lucky stars that she decided to reread the assignment prompt, especially considering the fact that rechecking things is not usually something that she does.

9:42 p.m.


Anything to avoid serious thought.

Just remember this: if you were not on your hands and knees scrubbing your linoleum floor at 7:30 this morning, then you are lazier than me.

9:21 a.m.


Why do you hate love, Hank?

After a week of consideration, I finally ordered this shirt because no one has volunteered to buy it for me and because if there is one thing that I can't stand, it's when people near me feel hopeful for any reason.

Also, the roommate is coming back from vacation tomorrow and it makes me sad because I've had almost no time to enjoy her absence. The whole time she's been away I've been busy ordering t-shirts that I don't need (my top wardrobe priority should really be pants that don't fall off) and thinking about how I should be working on that paper that I just can't seem to start but that, once started, shouldn't be that big of a deal. I am not good at writing or time management.

11:23 p.m.


Theoretically good lunches are not very satisfying.

Today I came to school without brushing my teeth or combing my hair or putting on makeup. I am reasonably sure that I remembered to shower, though. I was in the car and it was kind of like I suddenly woke up and thought, "Whoa. I am at the airport. When did that happen?"

Also, I think that one of my professors thinks that our class ends at 3:15pm when it is scheduled to end at 3:45pm, but I don't think that anyone will ever correct him. Getting out of class early gave me time to eat a theoretically good sandwich (peanut butter, apple, raisin and sunflower seed) and still have time to read a whole boring chapter of boringness and leave a completely pointless message on a class message board.

Which brings me to now. The sign by this computer says that it is to be used for educational or research purposes only, which is not what I am using it for, but I have not yet discovered where the computers reserved for frivolous purposes are.

6:27 p.m.


Even my computer thinks I need to get out more.

Presumably based on recent purchases of depressing cds and library school textbooks, half.com recommends that I buy Constructing Panic: The Discourse of Agoraphobia. Before I bought Bona Drag it was only recommending other depressing cds for me. I guess Morrissey was just one step too far.

Also, I figured out why library school has been making me so sad. And also that the way to my heart is through the international phonetic alphabet, apparently (and worrisomely).

12:09 p.m.


The anonymity of the internet is no match for my stupidness.

One of the classes I am taking is completely online, which means I never have to see my classmates (a major plus!) and that they would never have to know how stupid I am.

Except that we each had to start a blog about an aspect of technology in libraries and I named mine "Wi-Fi in My Library? Why?" All of the other blogs were called boring (but respectable) things like "Libraries and Online Gaming" and "Library Internet Filtering" and "Internet Security Issues."

Also, it is too bad that I don't know anything about wi-fi.

1:15 a.m.


It is an SFA day so I sound extra stupid.

On my drive home I was wondering why I never previously felt as filled with despair when leaving school as I have today and last Tuesday. I sometimes felt pretty bad when leaving high school, but never this bad. And then part of my muffler fell off and I had to drive most of the way home in a Honda Civic with the noise equivalent of 10 motorcycles. And motorcycles are loud.

Every time my car does something stupid I always feel really betrayed. I have stood up for that thing and cared for it and called it sexy when it very obviously isn't, and this is how it repays me? My car is a total ingrate.

On a less frustrating note, today is Love Kraft day! My initial reaction was to be kind of freaked out because 4/5 of the band sings on it, and I am used to Gruff and I love Gruff and if Gruff were to ask me to slaughter my family and join a Gruff-led cult that involved working 24 hours a day on a Welsh goat farm, I would probably say yes (but Gruff would never ask me to do any of that because I'm sure Gruff is way nicer than that). I like it in spite of my freaked outedness, though.

8:13 p.m.


So many wasted years.

Spaghetti squash is like deliciousness x1000. It makes me sad that I am 24 years old and this is the first time that I've ever had it. All of those years that my mom was forcing peas and acorn squash on me, I would've very willingly eaten this.

7:24 p.m.


Trying new things is not usually my style. Unless it is a new kind of cereal.

A little while ago I said had seven boxes of cereal. This week I have 12 boxes of cereal, some of which are currently being stored at an offsite location because I don't have room for them. It's beginning to seem like I have a real problem. When I was at the store tonight and it was really hard to stay out of the cereal aisle.

Also at the store, I bought two spaghetti squash (squashes?) even though I'm not sure what to do with spaghetti squash or if they are good. I just really like the concept of spaghetti squash and they were on sale. And I bought a red pear, which I have also never had, because they were all out of the green kind. It will be a week of produce discoveries!

11:47 p.m.


Killer Contract-breaking bees

A bee stung me this morning and I've been feeling really indignant about it ever since, because I thought the deal with bees was that they didn't bother you if you didn't bother them. I thought there was some sort of bee good faith agreement. I didn't even know that there were bees in the area until it stung me. I wish I had a lawyer.

11:25 a.m.


Mistaking a comment for a challenge.

The only thing I learned today on my first day of school is that my handwriting has gotten much worse in the last two years. I suspected that it might be bad because sometimes when I write down call numbers for people they look at me like, "Are you kidding me?" But it was hard to get a good sense of its terribleness from the occasional 811.3 La or grocery list. Seeing whole pages of it today was a little traumatic.

After my last class, I met the roommate at Denny's. We apparently took a long time eating our Boca burgers, because our waitress said, "You're still working on those? I guess you won't be wanting dessert!" And then of course we had to order dessert, because the roommate and I are the kind of people who get offended if you imply that we can't eat a lot.

Also: to carpool or not to carpool?

12:48 a.m.


To the end.

So I looked at my profile, saw that I had 1166 entries and suddenly felt enormously oppressed. But I had an entry all thought out, so I deleted all of the duplicate posts out of my livejournal and put it there. I would've just deleted all of the posts out of my livejournal, but I'd completely forgotten that I'd opened up my account at Liberty Street Video in order to rent Dude, Where's My Car? And that's the kind of memory that I want to hold on to.

12:48 a.m.

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