srah is an hourly worker, entitled to take trips with me
Oh, oui. Oh,
oui. Oh, yeah. I counted
my face gets
my Desk not.seeing the GW email
woesAlbion
has, been grinding my
generation could see the way...
Everyone and their brother and their kitchen sink has my shoes. I swear, no one had them until I bought them and now I see them everywhere I go. I'm going to start stealing them right off people's feet.
Not that I'm recommending them or anything, but they're really quite comfortable and make a loud SLAP SLAP SLAPPing noise when you walk.
I had a doctor's appointment and some blood tests the week before last. When I was ready to leave, the receptionist told me that they would call me within five days and if they didn't call me, I should call them. What kind of thing is that to say? It's a sure sign that they're not going to call. Don't do that. Don't tell me you're incompetent - leave me to figure it out on my own.
So I finally called today. "Ann Arbor Necrology, please hold," I heard. What? Am I going to die?, I thought, have they recognized me and automatically forwarded my call to the obituaries office?
Ohhhhhh, Endocrinology. Never mind. Perhaps I should be calling the ear doctor instead.
The receptionist told me that the doctor had written me a letter that had gone out yesterday. Great. They say they're going to call last week, they write a letter this week.
I think all doctors' offices, insurance companies, and anything related to them are probably run by Satan.
I think I'm going to have to file a residency application to be considered a Michigan resident if I want to go to graduate school at U-M. They're so difficult. If you put your toe into Ohio, you're suddenly ineligible for Michigan residency.
I just found the pictures from Albion's Off-Campus Programs Photo Contest online. There are some that are quite nice!
I think I've been grinding my teeth. Not at night, that I know of, but during the day. I don't realize it until I stop, then I go "Darn it, I was doing it again."
I went to look in the mirror and see if I could see any evidence of grinding-damage, but I don't know anything about teeth, so I couldn't tell. Maybe I'm just clenching my jaw.
While I was looking, I counted my teeth. I have 24.
Google! DayPop! This is my blogchalk: English, United States, Michigan, Ann Arbor, srah, Female, 21-25!
Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire finally comes out in paperback today, years and years and years after it came out in hardcover. Notice no fifth book yet. Hmph.
Anyway, anyone know what tomorrow is? It's J.K. Rowling's and Harry Potter's shared birthday! So I suggest we all write J.K. some birthday greetings that say "Hurry up and finish the goldarned fifth book. Srah is impatient. Happy birthday."
Seems like they could have delayed the release by a day, just to match them up...
I made chocolate chip cookies, chocolate peanut butter chip cookies and Rice Krispie treats for tea today. Not very original, but that's what happens when your butt refuses to get off the couch until after Wheel of Fortune and Jeopardy.
A new guide to learning Auvergnat, the regional language of Auvergne (a variation of Occitan, one of the ancient forms of French) has just been published in France. Apparently there's a movement to revive the language. There is an immersion school at Aurillac (how cool would that be? Why didn't I go to an immersion school?) and you can study it at the university at Clermont-Ferrand. I'll have to buy the book and try to learn some while I'm in Cusset.
I finally got around to buying my ticket (still haven't finished the visa application - so much to do, so much TV being watched). I'm flying Lufthansa (which has the stupidest online flight tracker in the world) on the 18th of September, arriving on the 19th. I've never flown Lufthansa before, but American, which was slightly cheaper, doesn't share mileage-plans with Northwest or United, so I would have had to apply for yet another frequent flyer plan. Now I can add my France-miles to my Chile-miles and get... I don't know what I can get, but I will have something like 9,000 miles on my little card and that will make me happy.
Sophie also flew Lufthansa when she came to visit, but she flew out of Lyon. Flying Lufthansa means I get to stop in Franquefort (I like the French spelling better than Frankfurt) and be in Germany (sort of) for the first time in my life. And an advantage over my Detroit-Amsterdam-Lyon flight of two years ago is that when I did that, I didn't have any Dutch money (what is that called?), so I sat in the airport, bored and hungry. Now there's the Euro (however shall I adjust?), so I can find some crisp apple struedel or schnitzel with noodles to nibble on (preferably no doorbells or sleighbells, though).
Flying is so expensive. What am I going to do when I'm no longer eligible for student discounts? I will have to stagnate here, I guess.
1. Charlie Chaplin or Buster Keaton? Buster Keaton. I always thought silent films were classics just because they were old and they were the predecessor to sound films. But I saw The General in an art-house cinema when I was in Grenoble and I found myself laughing out loud. Plus, you gotta love him in A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum and In the Good Old Summertime (which is vastly superior to the other movies based on the same play).
2. Laurel & Hardy or Abbott & Costello? Don't care. Neither are particularly funny.
3. Marx Brothers or Three Stooges? Hmmm. As Luc in French Kiss would say, "Tough decision!" On one hand, we have the Marx Brothers, comic geniuses, who made dozens of movies that make me laugh and who I would recommend to anyone. On the other hand, we have the Three Stooges, who are in no way, shape, or form, humorous.
4. David Letterman or Jay Leno? Dave!
5. "Saturday Night Live" or "Mad TV"? I try to watch SNL every week. I think I've seen parts of Mad TV twice.
6. Adam Sandler ("Mr. Deeds") or Mike Myers ("Austin Powers")? First of all, I have no desire to see Mr Deeds because it's a bad remake of a movie I really didn't like in the first place. While I have nothing against Adam Sandler, I think Mike Myers is adorable, so he gets my vote.
7. Jerry Seinfeld or Ray Romano ("Everybody Loves Raymond")? Ray, just because Jerry is obnoxious.
8. George Carlin or Bill Cosby? "You kids, with your hippin' and your hoppin' and your bippin' and your boppin'. Ya don't know about the jazz music. Well jazz is like the Jell-O Pudding Pops, no, it's like the Kodak film..."
9. "Monty Python's Flying Circus" or "Rowan & Martin's Laugh-In"? No one of my generation could be expected to have seen Laugh-In, but from what I've seen of the parodies, it looks pretty stupid. Therefore, "The room is full of milkmen... some of whom... are very old."
10. Gone but not forgotten...John Belushi or Chris Farley? Another tough decision... between two unfunny fat men whose humor dealt with such varied topics as... being an unfunny fat man. We'll go with Belushi, because The Blues Brothers, while not funny, has Carrie Fisher in it.
Did you know that Globe of Blogs has undergone a redesign? I don't know how long ago that happened. If you were in it before, you should look yourself up and, if necessary, reregister. There are many fascinating new features coming soon.
I have convinced myself that the new custodian's name is Grace, even though there is really no similarity or mental connection at all between that and her real name, which is Erin. Argh.
I also can never remember the name of someone here at work who I worked in the same room as for an extended period of time, who I talk to quite often and who I like.
I think this all comes as a result of the previously-mentioned Cyndi-information permanently implanted in my brain. DELETE DELETE DELETE!
In Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade, just after Indy tells the Nazis that Marcus speaks several languages fluently and will blend in in Egypt (I hate putting the same word twice right next to each other like that. If I had had the choice, I wouldn't have), it flashes to Marcus in a busy Egyptian street, asking if anyone there speaks Ancient Greek. If you listen, someone offers him some water and he says, "Water? No thank you, fish make love in it."
Don't know why I was thinking about that, but I thought I'd share.
For all of you Francophones out there, Sophie and I just wanted to let you know that we have created a new French verb. It will spread like wildfire, so don't be left out. Adopt it into your vocabulary today!
Sophie: Ce sont des lentilles jetables? (Those are disposible contacts?)
Me: Ouaaaaais... (Uh, yeah...)
(pause)
Me: Oh, oui. (Oh, yeah.)
I had heard "Ce sont des lentilles, je table?" ("Those are contacts, I table?"). I didn't recognize the verb tabler, but I figured it meant "to suppose". Yes, they very obviously were contacts, no supposing about it. Why else would I be sticking my finger in my eye?
Once all was explained, we decided that tabler should mean "to suppose". So there. Go forth and spread the use of our delightful new word.
Did you know the German word for whipped cream is schlag? How much more fun is it to order something mit schlag instead of with whipped cream? Go ahead, exclaim it right now. SCHLAG!
After writing that, I have looked it up on Babelfish. According to them, SCHLAG! means impact, which is almost (but not quite) as fun to exclaim. I dunno, my mommy told me it meant whipped cream and I trust my mommy.
Any German speakers out there know the real poop?
We watched Live and Let Die this weekend on ABC. The reasons were twofold: I wanted to see the young Jane Seymour and I wanted to see previews for MDs.
Mmmm, James Bond.
Yes, I am not exactly what you would call a James Bond fan. In fact, I see absolutely no value in the movies and can't understand why people like them, except possibly because they're so stupid they're kitschy.
I've never seen a James Bond movie I liked. And yet somehow this one managed to be worse than any I've ever seen. It doesn't have Sean Connery's very strangely slurred Scottish accent - it had a disgustingly tanned Roger Moore. It seemed like James Bond got plunked down in the middle of a 1970s blaxploitation film. The movie seemed to be trying to spread the idea that all black people are involved a giant evil heroin-selling conspiracy. I kept expecting Foxxy Cleopatra to show up with some of her classic dialogue ("I'm Foxxy Cleopatra. And I'm alllllll woman") and fine acting skills. I'm sure she wouldn't have stuck out, since none of the dialogue made any sense at all anyway.
The only highlights of the film were Jane Seymour wearing a peacock-style chair (I think you have to see it to understand) and the same preview for MDs, repeated twice. And, of course, the always popular attraction of adding bits of dialogue to the film about how all of the characters are getting STDs from James Bond. He is a skanky man-whore.
My tea (my turn to bring in the treats for our bi-weekly tea at work) has been moved up to tomorrow. Any suggestions? I am the baker extraordinaire and will use any excuse to bake, as it counteracts the frigid air coming out of the air conditioner and leaves the house more comfortable.
Why is it that I can remember the phone number, birthday, middle name, and name that she would have been called if her father had had his say of a girl I haven't even been able to stand since about 1992... but every time I call my roommate, I have to look her number up in the phone book? Why is there no 'delete' function in my brain, allowing me to expunge worthless information that I'd really rather not remember?
A Chinese researcher who doesn't speak much English has just arrived at the library (yes, around 4:30 on a Friday...) and I spent about fifteen minutes helping him fill out his registration card. He came over to me for help with it, rather than to the reference desk. I think he likes me because I speak slowly to him. I wish I remembered more than tushuguan (library) from my semester of Chinese - I think he already knew where he was, so tushuguan wasn't doing me much good.
I get the impression, after learning a bit about Chinese and talking to him, that it's tough for those who aren't fluent in English to grasp when a question is being asked. In many Western languages, we often just go up at the end of a sentence to make it into a question. In Chinese, words go up and down and up-down and change meaning because of it.
When we were done filling out the card, had his picture taken with me with his digital camera, because I helped him. So my face gets to go to China, as I'm sure it has many times before. We always have Chinese archivists visiting here and snapping photographs. Sometimes I wonder, when I'm in a touristy spot, if I'm getting into strangers' pictures and they're taking me home with them. Interesting thought, that. Communication is fun. What job can I get where I help foreigners all day?
I think I have carpal tunnel syndrome. Or leprosy. Or termites. Am I, an hourly worker, entitled to Worker's Comp? What is Worker's Comp, anyway? Is it something I would want to have? My arm hurts!
And while we're on the subject, "I doubt that there are few people in the United States who have never heard of carpal tunnel syndrome.". I love a good professionally-designed website, me.
Apparently I am quite self-centered, often forced to take trips with the fam, and have a strange obsession with vegetables. I am Bob's Blog Parody of the day!
Albion has, rather than kicking us out entirely, moved us to a small basement room with no windows and a leaky ceiling. Bah. I do get to keep my Albion webspace (big woop - I gotta get outta here soon, anyway), but rather than the lovely GroupWise system we had, where you could check messages through the web or through the GW email client, we've been moved to a new online server where our address book has no "Group" capacity. Boo. Blargh. Guess I'll have to get used to it.
If you're an Albion alum who, like me, usually deletes anything Mitch Kyser sends out ("IMPORTANT - They're putting a cupola on top of The Ferg today!" "IMPORTANT - The cupola-putting ceremony has been delayed for an hour!" "IMPORTANT - Sorry, make that two hours!" "IMPORTANT - It is raining, so we're not going to put the cupola on today!") and therefore didn't know about this, you can read about it here. You're welcome.
I am a poor, selfish and generally unpleasant person so I shall be neither blogging nor sponsoring in the Blogathon. Good causes and all, but I'm afraid I've been looking over the accounts and the time is not right. Must save money for France, especially seeing as the plane ticket is going to cost more than expected. What good is a student discount, anyway? Anyway, I'm digressing.
If you would like to donate money to a good cause, please sponsor my fellow Albionite Krista, who's blogging for Médecins Sans Frontières, or sponsor another blogger of your choosing.
Hurray for Blogathon! If only I weren't such a jerk!
My fingers and wrists are sore. I know it's probably because of the bad positioning of the keyboard at this computer, but I can't help but think it's because I'm back at work, typing all day long, after five weeks off. I'm OUT OF SHAPE. I think I pulled something.
Hooray! Cusset seems to be served by the réseau de buses vichyssois! Bus good. Walking bad, even if it is only 2km between Cusset and Vichy. I need a good map.
I feel funny saying "vichyssois(e)". Makes me think of the soup. But then, many things about Vichy make me feel funny. Ahem.
Who's your teenage heroine alter-ego? Discover @ Brillig
[via Canadian Irish Eyes]
I'll continue real blogging when I get back to work and when I go back to living in my room (tomorrow). For now, here's the dream I had last night:
It was Christmas Eve and we went to church. They were doing a new project where they made the pews narrower and narrower so people had to sit closer. One of the ushers came by to take away everyone's hymnals, and while trying to take mine, he actually lifted me into the air and shook me around a while before giving up and letting me keep it.
Next thing I remember, my friend Robin had a farm in the country and I was there with a whole bunch of friends. I think we may have been canning. I went out behind the house and saw that they had these enormous vehicles, like the ones the Jawas lived in in Star Wars. They were covered in aluminum foil to keep the aliens away. Some were in one section of the barn and others were roaming around the farm. I think Robin's family was using them to store gifts and supplies for poor children in Venezuela. Then we went to the next door of the barn, which was where Robin's brother kept his illegal hockey rink.
Suddenly this girl I vaguely knew from Albion came parachuting onto the farm. She asked me if I spoke English and I replied "A little." We weren't sure if she was just a lost parachutist or if she was a spy, ready to tell the government about the hockey rink and the Venezuela project...
When we got back from our trip, there was a little pink slip in our mail, saying that I had a registered letter from a foreign destination to pick up. Well, I picked it up.
Before I knew my region, I said to myself, "Well, I know people in Grenoble, so that would be a good place to be placed. I know Antoine in Nantes, so that would be good. Savoie would be fine, because I know Pénélope there. If I were placed in Lille, I could go up to Belgium and see Christianna. I like Strasbourg, and I like Provence, and I'd like to be in Bretagne to learn about all of their Celtic stuff. John Hannah and Ian Rankin have summer homes in the south-west, so that could be interesting, too. Or I could be placed near the Spanish border and maybe I'd have a chance to practice. Of course, with my luck, I'll probably be right in the middle, in Clermont-Ferrand, where there's nothing." Ta da.
Before I knew my city, I looked at the map of Clermont-Ferrand. "Boy," I giggled to myself, "Vichy is in this region. Maybe I'll be there." Now I find myself assistanteing in a lycée in a little town just outside Vichy.
I'm not complaining, really. I know anywhere I'm placed it will be fine and it will be an adventure, but why do I keep predicting the future like this? Aaaaah!
The only website I could find on the school says (translated by yours truly):
Open since the beginning of the 1999 school year, Lycée Valery Larbaud welcomes 632 students onsite at Vichy-Cusset. Entirely financed by the Regional Council of Auvergne, the region used some of the most modern pedagogical tools in France. With a particularly interesting architecture, the building makes use of green spaces, light, and water. Together, the lively style follows the architectural spirit of the hot springs of the region.
From an educational point of view, one can note - alongside our main studies in commerce, service, hotelery, restaurants, and health and beauty - a unique-to-the-region degree in optometry (a pilot program at the national level) and a career path in thermalism.
In terms of equipment, the Lycée Valery Larbaud is at the top of scholastic establishments. Three learning kitchens and three learning restaurants, two cooking demonstration rooms, an optometry laboratory, a computer lab with 357 computers, four multimedia laboratories, and complete equipment for optometry and glasses-making. All of this for a cost of 30 million francs.
What a weird school. It's like 37 specialized technical schools in one.
Ardent fans have bemoaned my absence, but never fear - I have returned. We just got back from an incredibly boring conference in the Upper Peninsula that my mother organized. We spent a lot of time learning about MINES. I never want to hear anything about MINES again as long as I live. So please fill the blahblahs with stories about MINES. Heh.
Anyway, I'll try to rejoin the land of the blogging bientôt and get my rear in gear on finishing the Chile-trip. Whew!
My Pato Purific is sick and far away. Poor me. Send me your condolences. Heh heh. Pato and I haven't spent more than a weekend apart in more than nine months. We are such wimps.
Sniff.
Well, I'm back. There's trip-blogging to be finished, but more importantly, there are bags to be unpacked and a room to be cleaned before La Soeurette arrives tomorrow at 4pm. So if you'll pardon me, I will do that, then blog about the trip once I've finished. Then, when I've finished that, I can finish typing up the rest of the trip (plenty of silly observations, but no adventures on the way home... too bad for you), then I can go back and fix mistakes I made, then when I get pictures back on Thursday, perhaps I shall scan them and add them in, then... why am I sharing this with you, anyway? Do you need to know my life story? Do you? Of course you do.
