Shawarma

Not everything yesterday happened the way that I expected it to. In fact, almost nothing happened the way I expected it to, apart from my usual afternoon nap. Even that was cut woefully short.

My shower was cut short by the interesting experience of having the light bulb in my bathroom die. If I were at home I would have just finished my shower and changed out the light bulb. Here, though, I had to put in a "maintenance request" online. Who knows when those guys will get out here to replace that bulb? We're looking at a couple of days of showering, not to mention peeing, in the dark. Perfect.


The Lindi Hop "Boot Camp" that I went to, which I expected to kick my butt was more of an exercise in patient than a physical exercise. Not to say that it wasn't fun, but there are only so many times you can practice a swing out in three hours without starting to intentionally step on people's toes.

 And finally, the thing I had been looking forward to all day, the 10pm showing of The Avengers, the one thing I thought would go perfectly right, ended up being the worst part of my day. I thought going to see the show would be great. And for the most part it was. But it was also painful.

Of course, I'd seen it before, but since it was playing at the Student Life Center, I decided that meant it was high time I saw it again. Besides, who doesn't like seeing their favorite movies on the big screen, even the ones they could watch from the comfort of their own home?

The line to get in was ridiculous, but fortunately we arrived an entire hour early. This might seem overkill, but considering we had to stand in a nasty corner that smelled like old sweat for only about thirty minutes and we got moderately acceptable seats, I'd say that it was well worth the time we invested.

Before I talk about the movie, I'd like to say a few things about watching a movie at the SLC: it is always freezing which means that it is a proper movie theatre; they didn't turn the lights all the way down which was mildly annoying; people like to clap at funny, touching or meaningful moments in the film, so if you're one of those people who likes to hear every line the actors are saying, then the SLC might make you angry on occasion. And by occasion I mean every time you go to watch a film.

The concessions at the SLC are nice; they come in sizes like "Yoda", "Batman" and "Godzilla".
 What's not nice are the lines to buy concessions. You might have gotten in early, but good luck finding a seat after waiting to buy popcorn! Or you could just do what I do, which is to forgo the popcorn buying and then listen to your stomach growl loudly and obnoxiously during the quiet parts of the movie. Why doesn't my stomach decide to let me know about its hunger strike during the car chase instead of the heroic death scene? That's an excellent question. I wish I knew the answer.

Back to The Avengers. I'm not going to pretend like this is a movie critic's blog, mostly because any of you who HAVE seen The Avengers know that it is an unparalleled paragon in the world of film and those of you who haven't seen it have been advised to do so by numerous people.

One thing I will say, however, is that you need to stay through the credits. If you are watching it play in a dollar theatre somewhere or if you purchase the DVD sometime later down the line, watch the whole thing. Disney loves to give you a sneak peek of the up and coming sequels after the first few minutes of credits and now that Disney owns Marvel (no comment) it is to be more than expected that Marvel films will do the same. In the particular case of The Avengers, there is cause to stay until the very, very end for one specific purpose: shawarma.

For those of you who are unaware, shawarma refers to Levantine Arab meat preparation which consists of placing meat (usually lamb or goat) on a spit and roasting it for up to a day. The meat is then shaved off into slices which are ether eaten alone, deli meat style, or, more commonly, used in the making of pita sandwiches. It is a fast food staple in the Middle East, Eastern Europe and the Caucasus.

If you watch the credits of The Avengers until the very end, not only will you realize just how much visual effects went into the making of the film, but you will also be treated to a rather awkward scene in which Earth's mightiest heroes are seated around a small table, shoving their faces with shawarma. I'd have to say that it is worth the five minutes of brain-numbingly dull credits. Although if you end up buying the DVD, I suppose you could fast forward through those.

"So, what about all this was the worst part of your day?" you say to yourself. "That you didn't buy popcorn? That the theatre was cold? That people clapped too loudly?" Not exactly.

See, The Avengers was the last movie I watched in the theatre with my dad. He was out of the hospital for a stint and he had really wanted to see it all summer. So on the last possible day that it was showing in town, we drove down to the theatre, bought some popcorn and soda (not something we normally do) and watched it together. A relaxing, regular day.

It wasn't really a regular day, but it was nice to pretend for a little while, and we had a lot of fun. We laughed, I cried (because I always cry during movies) and when we left the theatre, we talked nonstop about the funniest moments.

Last night was the first time I've seen The Avengers since then. I wasn't even thinking about it, I just wanted to see this great movie. Sometimes things bother me, sometimes they don't. Last night, for one reason or another, shook me. I don't think I will be sad every time I watch The Avengers, at least I hope not, because it is such a great movie, but memories are memories and even good memories can hurt.

I'm not sure why I decided to share that, maybe because it's easier to talk about it here than out loud or maybe because I'm banking on the likelihood that no one will even read this. Either way, it doesn't really matter.

Next time, I'll try to think of something more positive to write about. In the meantime, however, I'm pretty sure that there's a shawarma place near here...

Steak

Yesterday was Friday. Several things happen on Fridays, all of which are exciting. To start with, I have my first and only class of the day: Italian. After fifty minutes of multilingual fun, I am free until Monday.

First order of business, to celebrate my weekend freedom, is a nap. Afternoon naps are delightful and, I've recently been told, are the perfect time to take a nap anyways, as your body is already at a natural low between 1 and 3 o'clock. I decided to take my nap outdoors yesterday, simultaneously getting my daily dose of fresh air, sunshine and sweet, sweet slumber.

Another wonderful thing about Fridays is swing dancing. It's a great way to meet people (unless you're antisocial like me, in which case it's a great way to pretend to meet people) and it's also a little bit of healthy exercise. I mostly enjoy swing dancing because it's where I hang out with my friends. Some people spend their time partying and "living it up". I might be biased, but I personally think my Friday night activities not only outclass everyone else's but are also more fun because I can wake up the next morning and remember everything. Yes, college is for making the most of your time, but if you can't remember the time you made, what's the point?

Following swing dance there is either dinner and a show or just dinner. Just dinner is almost as fun as dinner and a show because if you're not rushing off to the theatre, you have time to enjoy your food and you're less inclined to scream at the waiters or hurl your food at their faces. It's not their fault that they've taken thirty-eight minutes to bring you your drinks; it's Denny's. Did you really expect fancy service?

As I'm sure you've guessed, I did not go to the movies last night which is slightly unfortunate, because I was hoping to see The Avengers (Earth's mightiest heroes!), but instead of buying overpriced popcorn and drinks and sitting in a cold, dark theatre, we ate underpriced Denny's food in a well-lit environment and then met a Jewish palm-reader and an awkward guy with personal space issues. Fun times were had by all.

If we hadn't eaten so much food at Denny's, we might have gone back to a friend's house and had steak. Nobody wanted that steak. Nobody except she-who-shall-not-be-named. And she let us know it, too. But can you blame her? Who doesn't love a good steak?

You know what makes a good steak? Appropriate seasonings and then... yes, cooking it. None of this medium-rare business. I don't need my food telling me its life story while I try to cut into it, thanks.

"Yeah, so, I grew up on a ranch... Cattle ranch, yeah, how'd you guess? My name's #4563, I was something of a trend setter in the herd. Wore my tag in my RIGHT ear, not my left..."

"Sorry, #4563, I just want to eat you..."

Well, I've made myself depressed now, I think I'll go write a haiku for poor #4563.

Commence "Vegetarian Week"

Apple Pie

This post has nothing to do with apple pie(Haha! All you foodies thought that I had finally converted to foodism). I titled it as such because apple pie is something that I like or, depending on the situation, severely dislike. Now, down to business.

I have been thinking recently about all of the things in life that just really piss me off. I mostly think about these things when I see them or come into contact with them, which is annoyingly often. I've decided to share five of them with you. In order to preserve the positivity of my blog (HA!), I will also divulge five things that makes me genuinely happy. Because I don't want to type the phrases "I like" and "I dislike" thirty times before this is over, I have arranged a nifty little system. The likes will come first, the dislikes after; I will denote what I like with a period and what I dislike with a parenthesis. Allow me to give you an example (this doesn't count as one of the five things):

1. Apple Pie.
1) Apple Pie that has been served with vanilla ice cream. Well, that's not fair of me. There are plenty of other times that I dislike apple pie. If it isn't warmed properly, if the crust isn't perfectly flaky, if there isn't enough cinnamon in the composition. I'm really a fan of the caramel crumble topped apple pies, mostly because I just hate pie crust, but then I think the lattice-work on traditional apple pies are extremely aesthetically pleasing.

I gave you this example not because it is particularly important that you know how I like apple pie (although if we ever have Thanksgiving together, now you have no excuse), but rather because I don't want you to misread something later down the line and think that, for example, I like mayonnaise and dislike the smell of the rain.

Now that everyone is on the same page, we'll start for real:

1. Breakfast foods for dinner. I just like breakfast foods in general, but something about eating them at night makes me feel like I've restarted the day and now have the energy to stay up for hours and hours!
1) When the people at the dining hall only give you two pieces of french toast. Two pieces of french toast might sound excessive until you realize that they are in actuality the french toast dipping strips, in which case two pieces is criminal. Not to mention that they heap about fifty tater tots onto your plate. I like tater tots just as much as the next American, but perhaps I could trade some of this twice-fried potato for some more french toast? I'd like to choose how I have my carbohydrates, thank you.
Note to self: this isn't a food blog. 

2. Vintage clothing, sundresses, feather earrings. I consider these all one thing. If you can find a vintage sundress and wear it with feather earrings? Perfection.
2) Girls who wear leggings as pants. It is also unacceptable to wear spanks as shorts. Come on, people! Now, I will admit that today, I wore leggings. However, I was wearing a very long shirt and an equally long sweater., not a regular shirt. The only thing those leggings were showing off were my legs. Also, have you noticed that the people who tend to propitiate this trend are people who... well, they shouldn't be wearing skin tight clothing, let's just put it that way. I'm not fatsist (...maybe), I just believe in wearing clothes that flatter your figure.

3. Guys who smell good. It's like kryptonite to me. So boys... I'm just kidding. There is a lot more that I consider than just smelling good, but it's certainly something that will catch my eye, er, nose.
3) Girls who douse themselves in heavy perfumes. I'm not just talking about old lady smelling perfumes. Even your Juicy Couture fruity tutti concoctions are cloying and obnoxious if you bathe in them before going out. Although to be honest, I'm not really a fan of hugely fruity colognes anyways, so that might just be me. I know that it's nice to be that girl who walks by and people get a whiff of her perfume; it's nice to be the person who gets a whiff of it, but only if it's a pleasant scent and applied in moderation. 

4. Being able to sing in the shower. Recently, my shower superstar has been stifled. Dorm life can really suck sometimes.
4) College of Music majors who have really snobby and unforgiving opinions on just about everything musically related. This is so specific, but it really does bother me and I have met far too many people like that in the past month. It's okay to like popular music. It's popular for a reason! Maybe this person cannot sing classically like you can (and by the way, what makes you so sure that you're such hot stuff anyways???), but that doesn't mean that you should disregard them completely. And I don't care what you say, Andrea Bocelli has a right to be singing still, he's damned talented!

5. Afternoon naps. Sometimes life is just overwhelming. Sleeping can't fix my problems, but it can postpone them for a while. Also, apparently an afternoon nap boosts my sexiness factor. Don't believe me? Read the previous post, it's a true story.
5) Really athletic guys who just look right through me. Just because I am not super built, blonde and suffering from extreme sun exposure, also known as a tan, doesn't mean that I'm not a person. I might not be at FSU on a volleyball scholarship and I might be pale and skinny and bookish, but I earned my way onto this campus the same as anybody else and if I want to play soccer on Landis Green with my friends then I should be able to and you should treat me like a fellow human being. Well, maybe not fellow. You look a little apish yourself, might not be fully evolved yet.

The list goes on and on, or at least the list of dislikes, I've pretty much covered everything I actually like*, but I'm going to stop, save some of my other pet peeves for a rainy day.

*That's sarcasm, my dear friends.

A Little Bit of Dating Advice

So, I will be the first person to admit that I know very little about dating. I have had one boyfriend (and that relationship went so swimmingly that we decided to break things off and never speak to each other again) and haven't done much hunting around since. However, this weekend I went out to dinner with someone I met and I learned three things which I felt that I should share.

This guy that I met, I met him while I was taking a nap. Well, I wasn't actually sleeping when we met, but I was napping when he knocked on my dorm room door. I opened the door in all of my bed-headed glory and saw a tall and rather attractive boy holding a clipboard. He was registering people to vote and wanted to know if I was interested. Of course, I wasn't, but he was cute and seemed so nice that I took the clipboard from him and filled out the registration paper.

I must have looked pretty hot, because as I'm mindlessly checking boxes (gender: female, citizenship: yes, serial killer: yes no, etc.) he says, "You look like I woke you up from hibernation." Well, thank you, random voter registrar. I like to think of this as my "why did you wake me up, I was peacefully sleeping" look. It comes in a variety of shades, from mildly annoyed to murderous.

After I sent him on his merry way, wishing him luck with getting all the registrations he needed, I crawled back into bed, intent on squeezing every last, lonely minute of sleep that I could out of this Saturday afternoon. It was not to be. Twenty-five minutes later, there is another knock on my door.

Why can't I spend a Saturday holed up in my room like a loser without people interfering??? I thought as I swung down from my ridiculously high bed, feeling something like Tarzan, sans dread locks.

Open the door and imagine my surprise: Mr. Voter Registrar, without the clipboard.

It took him about two minutes to adorably stumble his way through this simple sentence "I think you're pretty cool. Do you want to hang out sometime?" Apparently hibernation looks good on me.

So we exchanged names and numbers, or rather, he gave me his name and number as he already had my information from the registration paper, and we agreed to have dinner that night. And it was that night that I learned these three important things:

1) Don't tell her that you're a communist on your first date. This sounds so ridiculous that I'm sure you think I'm joking. I'm not.

"Let me guess... you checked 'no party affiliation' on your voter's registration?"

"Uh... yes."

2) Don't make fun of her for not understanding your Miami talk. Do not assume that I will know what you mean when you tell me that you are going to "scoop me up" at eight. You don't scoop a girl up, you pick her up. You scoop up dog poop from the backyard.

3) Don't pick an intellectual movie to watch when it's already late and you haven't seen it before. Alright, so this was actually a bad one on me. I picked out the movie that we watched (Sherlock Holmes: A Game of Shadows). It happens to be one of my favorites, but he hadn't ever seen it. I ended up having to talk him through most of the movie, not the best way to enjoy it, especially when all of your hard work goes out the window because he falls asleep during the last fifteen minutes when the entire plot climaxes and resolves!

I shake him awake. "Did you catch that whole last bit?"

"What whole last bit?"

Sigh. "I think it's time for you to go home."

"Yeah, I'm pretty cashed*." English, please! I'm begging you.

Not sure this boy will be calling me for another date. Not sure I want him to. Don't get me wrong, he was fun to hang out with and we had a good time, but the night ended on a dull note, not to mention I can't shake the feeling that I had dinner and a movie with Vladimir Lennon. 

*cashed- a term used to mean tired, beat, exhausted. A shortened version of the expression "cashed out". Alternately used to mean done, finished, fed up with.

Cookie Dough

Alright, so I know I said that this wasn't a food blog, but I've got to tell you about this.

I went down to the dining hall because, since I live in a lovely dorm room, I have to eat most of my meals among the masses. Usually, this is frustrating but convenient. Not tonight.

Feeling more antisocial than usual, I decided to take my to-go box with me and just bring my dinner back with me to eat in the relative privacy and loneliness of my cold, dark room. I was on a mission. Get in, get the food I want and get out. It all started with the cash register lady.

She swiped my card and then, when I handed her my used box and asked for a clean one, she looked at it, looked back at me and started laughing.

"Can I please have a clean box?" I asked.

"I don't understand why y'all are always washing these boxes yourselves and then trying to get a new one. This one ain't clean enough for you?"

I sighed. The first time I used this box method, the man reprimanded me for bringing back a dirty box, although I had been told that if you bring them back dirty they will give you a clean one. So from then on I have been particularly careful to rinse the boxes thoroughly before returning them which means that they look rather clean. But considering that I live in a dorm room, I don't actually have regular access to a kitchen, dish detergent or a sponge. Now, would I prefer to have a box that has just been rinsed and still is completely wet on the inside in which to put my food or a box that has gone through an industrial strength dishwasher?

I just looked at her. She shook her head and gave me a new box like I was some kind of crazy. I hope she didn't put the box I gave her into the clean pile. Some poor, unsuspecting social recluse is going to get dysentery.

Taking my freshly obtained box I then proceeded to the Po' Boy Sandwich station. There was no lettuce left because, apparently, by eight o'clock at night the dining hall staff have decided that it's too late to actually do their jobs. Which would explain the lack of cucumbers at the salad station and the sorry state of the snicker-doodles at the dessert station.

Now, you may be thinking, what is this girl's problem? She didn't get lettuce on her sandwich or cucumbers on her salad? Big deal. And what's with those cookies, anyways?

Perhaps it wouldn't be so upsetting if things weren't always like this. And as for the cookies... It makes me sad, just thinking about it. There was no dessert to be found except for five snicker-doodle cookies. The boy in line in front of me grabbed three. If he had taken all of the cookies, I might have stabbed him with a fork. But he generously left two for me, even though they looked a little squashed.

Cookies are cookies, I thought, and grabbed the remaining two, threw them in my box and left the dining hall for my dorm. On the walk back, since it is such a long, three minute walk, I popped open the to-go box (making the two girls walking ahead of me jump like it was a gun shot) and pulled out one of the cookies. It smelled delicious, all cinnamon-y and sugary like snicker-doodles are supposed to be. I bit into it. It was raw.

Rarely will I use the word raw for a cookie. Soft, maybe; a little underdone. No. This cookie was raw. I could taste the uncooked eggs. Both cookies were raw. Perhaps the biggest disappointment of my life. Or, at least, my day.

While I promise that this will not turn into a food blog, I think it outrageous that I pay a small fortune for my meal plan and have to put up with this bunk. It should be five-star food served up on a silver platter.

And they should include room service! Can't believe I have to walk three minutes to go get food...

Welcome to the Spice Cabinet

First and foremost: this is NOT a food blog. So if you're a foodie, get out.

No, this is a blog where I share my thoughts on college, humanity, and life in general. While nutmeg is a mild, everyday spice, most of my opinions are not. Mild, that is.

In addition, nutmeg, if eaten in large quantities, is a severe hallucinogenic. I'd like to say the same for my blog, but sadly the most I hope to achieve here is a few laughs.

That's not to say that this is a comedy blog. Well, it might be funny, but trust me, I can't make this stuff up. Anything I say here is just the honest truth.

With a little bit of spice.