Thursday, March 29, 2007

Tales from the Train (part 3)

Here's a story related to me from Christine, who suffers a similar plight as I, riding the Metro North into the city.

It was the 6:30pm train, and Christine was just sitting in her seat, reading the Bible (she says it's for her class, but I think it's only a matter of time before she starts quoting verses and judging me), minding her own business, when a black lady wearing a rainbow knit ski cap starts screaming at the conductor. Apparently, the conductor accused her of never having a ticket. The rules are, if you don't have a ticket, they will kick you off at the next stop. Well, I don't want to reinforce stereotypes, but when taking a train out of Grand Central, the first stop is usually Harlem. It's a clever racket if you actually want to go to Harlem. But as Natalie would say, "I choose life." When accused of the scheme, the lady with the rainbow hat started screaming, "THIS IS A RACE ISSUE." Not wanting to fall into that trap, the conductor backed off, and the lady laid down and went to sleep. Good times.


I Swear to God I'm not a Feminist

... but the assignment for my Digital Photography class is to create a visual representation of two creation myths. Since all of the myths are so stereotypically misogynistic, I figured I'd turn into a feminazi for a little while and create these two gems. I guess I was on my period or something, right guys?

Adam and Eve Myth
(Larger Version)

"Let there be light" myth
(Note: The hand of God is Marie Sweeney's)

Saturday, March 10, 2007

Spring Break (read: "drunken mayhem")

My most recent article in the Generator suggested that since as college students, every weekend (and often several weekdays) is filled with druken debachery, that perhaps we get away and have a semi-sober Spring Break. Maybe it'll be nice to see something besides the inside of a toilet bowl for a change.

And so, I'm going to Paris for a week. I'm planning on pretending to be Canadian while I'm there. You know, dopey and inoffensive. Not like those jerky Americans who think they know everything (Not that I'm the quintessential American or anything).

Posts to follow on topics such as stained glass, baguettes, and berets.

Wednesday, March 07, 2007

Adventures in the ER

(I've been meaning to post this since it happened about, ohhhhh... I dunno, a month ago...)

After spending a fun five hours in the emergency room with Christine, I'm in the mood for a nice little rant.

Basically, with every month that I'm at Marist College, I am repeatedly dazzeled by the sheer ineptitude of Marist Security. I didn't know that it was possible for a whole group of people to suck so hard (save for the Backstreet Boys), but here they are, sucking it up 24/7.

As you can see from the chart, they're pretty awful in comparison. The basis of this rant started when Christine had to go to the ER to get a CAT scan. My first thought when she told me this was: 1.) omg, I miss my cat, and 2.) omg, that's serious!

Unfortunately, Christine's medical emergency coincided with the biggest storm we've had this winter, and driving her to the hospital would involve digging my Pontiac out of over six inches of snow.

So, I called Security and asked them to pick us up and give us a ride to the hospital. They told us it would be about ten minutes. Although, if I called and said I was DRINKING BEER I'm sure they'd be here in about thirty seconds. But, oh, you need a ride to the ER? Ten minutes.

So Security pulls up after ten minutes and tells us that he only has room for one person. So after arguing with him and shouting obscenities, he gave Christine a ride and I dug my car out of the snow with my hands. Thanks for nothing, Marist Security!

And since incompetence seems to be a theme wherever I look these days, let's talk about the ER. Let's not forget about the standard five hours in the ER before they tell you nothing's wrong with you and send you home, but how about a direct quote from one of the male nurses: "You guys are still here? Did you see the Indian doctor? He gets disoriented and walks off a lot. I'll try to find him." Greaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat.

So what did we do to pass the time? (Well, besides taking inappropriate pictures of Christine in her lovely gown) We listened to the comedy show, perfectly titled,

Typical Belligerant Poughkeepsie Native: I WANT TO LEAVE! I DON'T WANT TO BE HERE!
Security Guard (who's keeping watch over him because apparently, he's crazy): You can't leave.
Typical Belligerant Poughkeepsie Native: FUCK YOU! I WANT TO LEAVE!
Nurse: Well, you gave up your right to leave when you took a whole bunch of pills and tried to kill yourself.
Typical Belligerant Poughkeepsie Native: I DIDN'T TRY TO KILL MYSELF!

(Note: He was about 250lbs and like 5' 5," in his underwear, screaming and yelling as three security guards and five nurses had to physically restrain him. He calmed down, but the fun part happened when the nurses and security guards changed shift, so he'd ask a new person why he couldn't go home and they'd tell him that he couldn't go home because he tried to kill himself, and the whole ordeal would start again)

Typical CRAZY Poughkeepsie Native: (to the Security Guard) Are you Jewish? You're a good man.
Security Guard: No, I'm not Jewish, I'm Italian.
Typical CRAZY Poughkeepsie Native: You know what they call Italians sometimes? GUINEAS.

(Note: He was a generally mild-mannered guy, just completely nuts. He went on to talk about how he had won the lottery, but they bought him a house in the middle of a prison yard. That ain't right!)

Tales from the Train (part 2)

All right, so basically, this entry is going to confirm what everyone already thinks about me: I'm a cold-hearted bitch.

For those of you who think you've seen a softer side of me; maybe you're remembering the time I got you a nice birthday present, let you cry on my shoulder, or perhaps even accompanied you to the ER, you should forget about it. Because the only thought that ran through my mind when a guy had a seizure on the train this morning and was carted out to an ambulance on a stretcher was: "Bastard. Now I'm going to be late."

And I was late. 45 minutes late to be exact. I hate being late (although it usually never happens), and of course, I hate it even more when people in my life are late. Describing me as punctual would be like saying that OJ Simpson just had a bad temper. Yes, I'm the friend who, after agreeing to meet you at 9pm, calls your phone at 9:04pm to ask you where the hell you are. I'm not late. Why are you? STOP WASTING MY TIME, JERKS.

PS: Remind me never to have an epileptic seizure in New Hamburg, New York, because it legit took the ambulance 20 minutes to get there. Way to go, guys.


Sophomore Year vs. Junior Year

Hey, remember this funny little cartoon I made last year? Oh, haha, my life was so fun and carefree! Library? Where's that? Homework? Yeah right!

Well, look who's laughing now (Hint: Not me).

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Friday, March 02, 2007

The Taxonomy of a Group Project

A few days ago, I was in the library, wanting to kill myself, when I ran into my friend Melissa. She was sitting alone at a computer, and I asked her what she was doing.

"I'm working on a group project. Can't you tell?"

The sad part about this situation is that I could tell. After almost three years of college I've realized that there are only two types of people in this world. The people who love group projects and the people who can't stand them.

The people who love group projects are usually guys, although sometimes they can be the Paris Hilton-type party girls. Regardless of the sex, the people who love group projects also love to shirk their responsibilities. They're the ones who casually suggest that you should do the Powerpoint presentation. They're the ones who will give you the hardest time about when your group should meet, and then when everyone agrees to meet at the time he or she wants, they show up 20 minutes late- or even better, they don't show up at all. Go team!

The people who hate group projects are the smart ones. They end up with the burden of all of the work of the project, and yet will rarely complain to the professor about the dead weight that they were assigned to work with.

Sometimes, though, you luck out, and you actually are matched up with some crazy control freaks like yourself, and the work is split evenly (If I've done 20 group projects, this has happened twice).

Best (Worst) Excuses That I've Heard for Shirking Work on a Group Project:

I have to go to the gym: After meeting for 10 minutes for a project we hadn't started that was due in three days, he said he had to leave because he needed to go to the gym. Really? I'm pretty sure the gym is open all of the time.

I can't read: Okay, maybe he didn't say this, but he might as well have. It was for my Women in Film class, and I love the two-three guys who end up getting stuck in the women's studies classes. They sit there and get beat up by a room full of feminists and a lesbian professor. Poor them. But hey, you registered late, buddy. This is your cross to bear. So read the freakin' article about how women are horribly portrayed in slasher films and try to contribute something to our presentation. Well, of course, he didn't. During our presentation, I read something off of the slide and when it was his turn to talk, he legit read THE SAME THING I HAD READ. Brilliant.

Thursday, March 01, 2007

Tales from the Train (part 1)

Reasons why I love the Metro North...