How to lose a guy in ten days (or maybe fewer)

On Thursday afternoon, we were just sitting outside our apartment, chilling, painting a cabinet (or, in Hana's case, painting a picture of Jesus) when we heard this scream. And not just any normal scream, but a scream like I've never heard before, like a weird combination of a dying animal and some poor soul who's just been told off by Simon Cowell in their American Idol audition. Seriously, we thought this poor girl was being attacked. We listened some more, and it became apparent that she was just sobbing, well, more screaming than sobbing, but that she was not in any immediate danger. So we didn't, you know, call the police.

Then this girl starts to yell. And I really do mean yell. Because she's in the apartment above us (we think), but all the doors and windows are closed and we're outside but we can still hear her, clear as daylight, going off about how she's trying to talk to 'him' and he's just picking his nose (I KNOW). And this goes on, intermittently, for hours. It gets dark, and eventually she called him or he magically appeared in her apartment without us seeing him come into the building and she accuses him of lying and 'studying with that girl' and we're just sitting down there thinking, Whoa, girl, you need to get a grip. And then maybe dump this guy that's causing you so much distress.

Because we all know the healthiest behaviour is to scream about your crazy emotional insecurities for your whole apartment building to hear, right?

Fell in love with a GSI

With the first actual seven days of school are wrapped up, I have been to all of my classes now. And I am sad to report that I don't have a single GSI* that I am in love with.

While some people (what kind of people? I don't know, I'm basically making this up) would avoid awkward and hopeless crushes at any cost (again, I'm making these people up; do they even exist?), I embrace them. I love falling in love with my GSIs.

But I am not in love with any of my GSIs for this semester.** My Spanish GSI is Columbian and very good-looking, but he is also shorter than me. This might seem silly for a crush, but hey, it's my awkward and hopeless crush, and I can bestow it for whatever physical characteristics I deem acceptable. My linguistics GSI is Spanish and I think I might like him more than his objective looks, but it remains to be seen if his accent can make up for that. And my other GSI is a woman.

So over all, poor showing this semester. Why does my roommate always get the hot British GSIs? I want one of those! Or maybe a really nerdy, tall guy with glasses, like my Classics GSI last spring. See, they don't have to be objectively gorgeous! Just taller than I am.



*GSI = graduate student instructor, a.k.a. Berkeley's fancy way of saying TA
**At least, not yet.

Do the Helen Keller

Even though Hana was the one who told me about it in the first place, I had to practically drag her to this gay frat party on Friday night. And then by the time we got there, all the booze was gone. So what was the point?

Why is it so much easier to party in foreign countries?

At least Hana and I can share our mutual appreciation for this song. And video. And Helen Keller.

Rainy day blues

Normally, I like rain. I like the sound it makes, I like rain-tossled hair, I like wearing cute warm coats and scarves and boots. But then I forgot about rain in Berkeley.

I should know by now that rain in Berkeley is notoriously off-and-on, like two bored, excitement-craving teenagers in a high school relationship. I should know this. But somehow the almost-clear sky and slight glimpse of sunshine fooled me around 3 p.m. this afternoon.

Today was the first day of classes, and I only had two, because a) there are no Linguistics discussions the first week of school and b) I am still number five on the waitlist for my Spanish class and only the first three people can sit in on the class but I need that class if I want to major in Spanish and it's making me nervousssssss.

Where was I? Right, only two classes.

My second class was a discussion for a lecture I'd had earlier today. It started at 3. As I left the house, I looked out the sky, which was looking very pleasant and friendly and a lot like a post-storm sky. So I left my umbrella at home. But I had forgotten that THIS IS BERKELEY and YOU SHOULD NEVER LEAVE YOUR UMBRELLA AT HOME HERE. Even when, no, make that especially when, you think, "There's no way it's going to rain." BECAUSE BERKELEY WILL FIND A WAY, BELIEVE ME.

Also, for this discussion, I went to the wrong classroom. It was almost 3:10 (all classes start ten minutes late, on 'Berkeley time') and there was no one there. I must've written the room down wrong, I thought, and called one of my roommates to look it up for me. It's in another building, I found out, but one very close to the one I'm in. A two minute walk, barely.

Of course, the very nano-second I leave the building, rushing desperately being as I'm already late, it has to start fucking hailing. HAIL. AS IN SMALL BALLS OF ICE. REPEATEDLY PELTING ME IN THE FACE.

But I got to discussion, and my GSI was really nice. She just had me fill out a form with all my info, and then a few minutes later, everyone (who had already been paired up) introduced each other. AND THEN SHE DISMISSED US.

So I ran through the hail for an ice breaker game. Good to know.


On the plus side, my outfit today was super cute* and I went to the gym! Getting off to what I hope is a better start.


*But I'm not posting pictures because a) this is not a fashion blog, who do you think I am? and b) all the pictures I tried to take came out really badly.

Like a $1 whore

Now that I'm back up at Berkeley and have resumed my life as a poor college student (unlike Mexico, where I was a rich college student, with 13 pesos to my dollar), I have discovered the true wonders of the dollar store. I had been the dollar store before, but only for art supplies, wrapping paper, and Christmas decorations. But it's really amazing how much food you can buy, all for only a dollar. Frozen dinners, shredded cheese, spices, tortillas, tinned vegetables, salsa, butter. It might throw the quality of said food into question, but for a dollar, I'm willing to take that risk.

And of things in the recent past that I haven't posted about because I'm a bit neglectful, I had plans to go see a movie with Mikko last Friday, because it was my last day in town. And then he fucking forgot we had plans. Thanks for making me feel like an unwanted loser, Mikko.

I went out with Sam and Misty instead. We drove all the way around the peninsula and back. That was nice, at least.

Power struggle

Last night, after we had all frolicked in the cold water at the beach around midnight, we were sitting on the boardwalk wall, enjoying the view and trying to regain feeling in our toes. Misty and I mentioned how earlier we had been discussing how we, being employees in the food service industry, have become adept at manipulating people (especially men) to get larger tips. The discussion we had been having was that it was really a matter of control: making people (usually men) think they're in control of the situation (and thus you), when you're really the one with all the power.

"Uh, yeah," Sam scoffs. "Right. Manipulation."

"What? You think we couldn't manipulate you?"

He smiles, almost embarrassed it seems, and shakes his head. "I am the master of manipulation."

Misty and I smile at each other knowingly.

Letters to no one

Dear Bespectacled Guy at the Gym,

I know I'm a very violent shade of red and very sweaty and gross-looking right now, but I think you're cute and wish I had the power of mind control and could make you come over to the ellipticals and strike up a conversation. But I don't. So you have to do it yourself.

I clean up nice. I promise.


Love,
Arielle

For all you bloodsuckers out there

I saw Daybreakers last night, and thank fucking god, a movie that actually has an interesting and fresh plot about vampires instead of just using them metaphors for tween sexual frustration. Not that vampires as metaphors for teenage sexuality can't be interesting (I mean, Buffy, right?) but someone needs to shake this country teen-aged girls and for some inexplicable reason middle-aged housewives out of it's their weird current fetishism with vampires. Even though the dialogue was bad and the movie was so MELODRAMATIC!OMG at times that it bordered on comical, it was still interesting, instead of just two or three bad actors starring and biting their lips and playing with their hair and taking off their shirts at each other.

Before the movie, I went to IHOP with Sam (to go bug Misty, of course, and wait for her to get off work). I forgot how much I freakin' love Sam. I've known him since freshman year of high school, but it's not like we really hung out that much during high school (or that we even hang out much now), but he and I can talk and go on and on like we've been BFF since first grade.


And speaking of vampires, the City of Lawndale planted garlic in the road dividers to keep out the vampires, DUH!



I'm pretty sure the councilman is joking (if not, then he makes me SO PROUD to be Californian), but is just a fucking pro at being deadpan. I really hope this is the case. Because that makes him sort of awesome.

I think I'd be good for you

On Wednesday when I went to Hana's house, she and Kyle (her boyfriend) and I were watching Behind the Music: Brett Michaels and it was HILARIOUS how people were saying these SERIOUS and SINCERE (a.k.a. fake) things about how great a person he is and how Rock of Love is a legitimate attempt to find love. Like, no it's not, we all know it's not. It's reality TV; we all know the name of the game and it's to watch a bunch of dumb hos get drunk and fight and curse and be slutty. No to find true love. So the fact that they were still trying to make people sincerely pretend that this was not the case was really funny. Also, Brett Michaels said, "I didn't want to be a parody of who I was in the 80s." OMG, LOL, BRETT MICHAELS. YOU ARE TOO MUCH.


Also, I love this song. And I related to it far too well.

Politics as usual

I love this little kid with glasses. (He was also in this piece.) He should become a regular correspondent!


And Aasif Mandvi's piece was too good not to post.

Also, Ezra Klein: I think I've found my new boyfriend ♥ (Besides Jesse Eisenberg.) I'll have a grown-up political culture with him any day.

Magic

"What are you guys playing?" someone's mom asks us.

"Quidditch," a couple of people say in unison.

"That sounds like something from Harry Potter," she says.

"That's because it is something from Harry Potter," someone, who's name I think was Andrew, responds.

Yep, we fo' sho' play Quidditch at the park. True nerd status right here.


And today I carried on an entire transaction completely in Spanish! Thanks guy who didn't speak English very well, for coming while Lorena was on break. You made my day!

Class with a capital K

I'm honestly surprised I managed to survive New Year's Eve with my virginity intact and work the following day.

We, again, partied at the schnazzy house Kimberly is house-sitting. We covered the whole classiness range, from swilling wine in crystal glasses to drinking SoCo and Coke out of a Jack in the Box cup. We played Left 4 Dead, than played a drinking game with the new Star Trek movie (every time Kirk someone breaks a rule, which is really often) and drank champagne at midnight.

And then... the real heavy drinking started. And then came the hot tub. Again. But this time! there were no worries about me not wearing pants, because I was prepared and brought a bathing suit!

Anyway, the hot tub is where things got interesting. (Isn't it always?) Mikko made our with Brandon (hot), and then Janelle made out with Katie (surprisingly, as I'm not into girls, hotter). But of course, Mikko is such a slut that his hands kept wandering to places they had no place being. He really is The Group's whore.

We finally went to sleep around 4:30 a.m. And I got up to go to work at 6:30. I wanted to kill myself, but I did watch the sun rise as I drove down the hill to my place of work. But then the suicidal feelings returned about three hours into an eight-hour shift. And it didn't help that practically every other person just had to say, "So, working on New Year's Day, huh?" Yes, thank you. Why don't you just RUB IT IN A LITTLE MORE.

I'm so glad that's done. I slept twelve hours yesterday. I had forgotten what sleep felt like.