In the news...

No lie, I'm getting kind of nervous.
But after reading Andrea's post on it, I feel a little better.

Also, my friend Kyle posted this on his Twitter:
"forget pigs, i'm gonna catch wine flu."
Me too, Kyle. Me too.

Image via weheartit.com

I Feel Like a Dirty Old Hermit

My eyes really hurt because I was sobbing hysterically two hours ago. I thought I didn't have a ticket home. I had some trouble buying my ticket earlier this month and I never got a confirmation email from my ticket purchase. But for some reason I didn't think twice about it.

This morning I got a text from my friend Katie that said her flight was cancelled because of snow and she was stranded at the airport (she's trying to get to So Cal too). So I checked online to see if there was any news on my flight tomorrow... But there was no record of my flight.

That's when I started praying. Praying and saying a lot of expletives. Funny how that happens. And then I called my room-mate who was at work. I don't really know why I called her. But I did and that's when the hysterics surfaced. Then I called my mom and told her that I screwed up. That I accidentally cancelled my flight earlier this month. And that I wouldn't be able to come home for Christmas. I almost threw up I was crying so hard.

But then I calmed down and called Travelocity to see if they had a record of my flight. Even though it wasn't listed online and even though I never got a confirmation email. A nice man named "John" (he was clearly from India; I'm guessing it wasn't his real name) told me that I was flying out as scheduled.

PRAAIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIISSSSSSSEEEEEEEEEEE JEEEEEESSSSSSSSSUUUUUUSSS.

So now I'm on my couch, watching Good Will Hunting (hmm, not a bad movie), wearing Boyfriend's flannel. I am quite in need of a shower. But I don't really feel like doing anything today.

Oh yah. I forgot to mention. No work today. Because it snowed all day yesterday. That's why Katie couldn't fly out today. There is a chance I might not get home for Christmas because of the crazy conditions at the airport. Yaaay. Stupid weather. I'm over it. It's turning me into a lazy ass. JOSIE GROSSIE.

Christmas in the Northwest makes me want to shoot myself in the head. Just kidding.

Is It Worth It?

It's funny to me that I feel the need to get this blog off of my chest before I accomplish the countless number of other things on my current list. That includes:
1. Cancel dates today because I'm a jerk
2. Eat breakfast
3. Go through emails
4. Read Shitspeare... I mean Shakespeare. Oh, what a slip of the tongue.
5. Read the History of Boredom... I mean the History of English. What is wrong with me?
6. Absolve my sins
7. Sell myself in order to be secure monetarily
8. Write really inconsequential articles for the Falcon... Review of "Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull" and SPU Celebrity Look-alikes. Who the fuck have I become? Ryan Seacrest?!
9. Send out graduation announcements... AKA "Please send me money because I am impoverished"
10. Figure out how to not live a dull life... Which probably means moving to a) Morocco b) Costa Rica c) New Zealand

So was it worth it last night to go out for two hours to the Matador with Leslie and her boytoy Travis? I had a good time. Laughter. Margarita. Nachos. But then I realized that it was a dumb decision when I had more "important" things to do. But if I had stayed home and done those "important" things I wouldn't have had so much fun. Conclusion: Allie needs to grow up. Life isn't about having fun. But you know, if I hadn't gone to the Matador I wouldn't have seen:
1) Two PAs that were out celebrating a birthday. One martini. One lemon drop. Hahahaa. It was definitely an "I won't tell if you won't tell" situation.
2) One SPU grad who came out as a lesbian a couple months ago, girlfriend in tow. Take that and that, SPU. Join the real world.
3) Chahhhles. That's Charles, with a British accent. He volunteers at 826 with me. And he got in a fight with Travis over Pluto's planethood.
So was it worth it?
Yes.
No.
Yes.
I think yes...
And my goal, PS, is to not use the S word anymore. The one that rhymes with "pressed." As a senior, I think I've used it way past its expiration date for the last four years of tests, to do lists, and reading assignments. So I will tell you right now that I'm overwhelmed. And don't really want to talk to anyone. So leave me alone. Just kidding. Kind of.

Rome, the first day.

Lets be totally and completely honest: my senses are out of whack. Starting from the bottom, my feet feel bloated with immobility that 9-12 hours on an airplane tend to bring about. My stomach is running on empty, so those few butterflies are making use of the wing-space in there. My eyes are feeling a little more well-rested after a two hour nap, but they are still very busy taking in all the sites and sounds (including a group of Scots in kilts who just walked in to the Hotel Castelfidardo lobby!). And my head, above all, is very, very bewildered. What have I gotten myself into? Rome, as far as I know it from the sites I have seen today, is a city of cigarette butts, muggy gray skies, and fast-walking people who never smile. First impressions, my friends. At the moment I have become attached at the hip to uncomfortability and unfamiliarity-- and I am not liking it. My consolation is the evening of sleep-- and a hot shower-- that await me. I am praying it will rejuvenate me... Its 8 pm and I just got back from dinner to go at a small anonymous pizzeria with Italian women at small tables drinking Heinekens. I got a rectangular slice of a vegetable pizza-- the first bite made everything I had been feeling awful about dissolve. Welcome to Italy, my friend Roz said when she saw the look of satisfaction on my face. We walked and talked about our fears and hopes for the next two months of traveling, as the Roman moon shone above. After a long day of journeys from Seattle to Amsterdam to Rome I have found comfort in a friendly conversation and a good slice of pizza.
And I almost got hit by a motorcycle.