“An Eye For An Eye Makes the Whole World Blind” - Ghandi

I know it doesn’t mean much to those in power, but I just want to issue my condemnation of the death penalty for Scott Petersen. Yes, what he did was brutal, senseless, disgusting, and depraved; but the death penalty is not the answer to any of these things. It is equally brutal, senseless, disgusting and depraved - and those two wrongs don’t make a right.

Let Scott Petersen spend the rest of his life in prison, thinking about what he has done. Let him recieve the psychological counseling neccesary to make him understand what he’s done, so that remorseless fuck can spend the rest of his life paying for Laci and Connor with every tear he cries from his miserable eyes. More killing is never the answer.

DONE!!

I’ve handed in my last paper, put on my best clothes and a smile, for this lil girl is officially a second semester senior!

What what!?!?!?!

Monkey to man.

Tonight, we had a bit of tomfoolery at midnight breakfast, which is that fabulous thing the night before finals when the deans serve us pancakes at midnight! This time, though, the hilight was my extraordinarily hairy friend Daniel Rozenholtz wearing the gorilla suit from his play (aptly titled Gorilla) and monkeying around. Below you will find the story in pictures.

Dan shows off his threatening monkey posture.

Dan harasses Alex and Mike.

Da Monkey serves himself a plate.

A-CHOO!

I MOCK you with my monkey pants!

ASPC Prez Cieran Rockwell (a.k.a. “His Supreme and Utter Hottttttt-ness”) and his friend have ticks. Dan can smell them.

Cieran: I’ve been waiting my entire life to be kissed by a monkey!

The monkey, protesting the absence of banannas at midnight breakfast, resorts to eating nits off of fellow students.

Should Dan ever decide to run for office, this will be his campaign poster. The caption will read: Rosenholtz, he doesn’t monkey around!

Monkeys eat pancakes?

Monkeys eat politely?

Mullets and Peer Pressure. Why?

In high school, my friend Mikaela had an unnatural obsession with mullets. She told me with great pride that when a woman had a mullet, it was called a “fe-mullet”, when a child had one, it was called a “chullet” and when a bald guy had one, it was called a “skullet.” Mikaela was right, mullets are generally funny - until they happen to you.

See, Andy has a friend, a rather attractive friend as it so happens. Today in the dining hall, this friend walked in with a rather unfortunate mullet where his long hair used to be. Keep in mind that this guy is usually very nice looking, so a mullet on him was particularly devastating. And it became even more devastating when Andy started saying how cool mullets are and how he wanted to grow one and live in a trailer park in Utah.

Now, I know he’s probably not serious - but all jokes are composed of at least 30% truth. So I’m begging you, friend of Andy’s who (for now) shall remain nameles, please, remove your mullet for my sake - if not for your own, before my boyfriend actually does get serious about this whole mullet/Utah thing.

Bye Bye Miller Group and Kelly Clarkson

So….I finished my internship today. It was an amazing semester’s worth of immersion in the fast paced world of advertising and PR - and for the most part I loved it! I feel more prepared for the real world, which was the point.

You’d do it if you loved me.

Christmas Gifts involving The Stranger? oh me, oh my!

Soliders, Thesis Proposal, GoogleWhacking & iPod malfunctions

Congratulations to all the soldiers who put US Secretary of Defense Donald Rumsfeld on the spot today, asking him tough questions about the back-door draft and the lack of properly armored vehicles for our brave soldiers in Iraq. It’s times like these, when those who wear our uniform raise their voices and question the validity of decisions made by the leadership that I am proud to be an American.

To read more about what happened today, click here to go to CNN’s story.

Chappy Chanukah!

I remember at good ol’ Holy Names Academy, being the only Jew and having random people I didn’t know come into my homeroom to ask me how to spell Chanukah.

Oy!

NPR has a fabulous collection of Chanukah stories on their website. Check it out.

Crackification and De-Crackification: A Retrospective

Do you ever wake up in the morning feeling as though some kind soul has stuffed your poor little cranium with crack-laced cotton balls? That’s how I’ve been feeling all day. The cotton makes everything blurry and vaguely irritating, while the crack makes it impossible to focus on anything for more than a few seconds. When this happens, you have three options: (1) Give in to the cracked-out-ness and just accept that you’re not going to get anything accomplished today, (2) Exercise, or (3) Caffiene.

Since I’ve sworn off caffiene, and I can’t afford to waste a day being cracked out, I decided to go work out, which removed 90% of the cotton balls, but neglected to do anything about the crack.

I’m still having a great deal of difficulty composing my thoughts, which is extremely unfortunate because I have a 15 page research proposal due Wednesday by 5pm, and I’m still trying to refine the subtleties of my argument for my thesis.

Can’t I just say, “My thesis is a fucking AWESOME idea! If you can’t see that, then you’re on more crack than I am!” and leave it at that?

*sigh*, unfortunately not.

Longing for the Good Ol’ Days

Watching my “sister in law” run around Pomona College like the excited freshman she is, meeting new people, being in plays, playing sports, meeting profs and generally having a blast sometimes makes me long for the good ol’ days. Those were the days, before thesis proposals and job searches.

Of course, life wasn’t great freshman year. My roomate and I almost killed each other, I got my heart stomped on repeatedly, and then there was the tiny matter of being put in what I still remain convinced was simply the wrong sponsor group. (Should have been Wig B baby, yeah!).

Still, as I sit here typing up the literature review that is to introduce my thesis, the culmination of my four years of intense study and hard work to the world, I have to say that it went by much, much too fast.

Here’s to you, freshmen. Enjoy it while it lasts.

Organza Orgasm!

Well, I went ahead and poked around on the internet looking for custom ball gown designers. I e-mailed out a few questions about the cost of actually constructing a dress based on my design.

According to one seamstress I talked to, the dress would cost around “$3000 ballpark,” which was a lot better than the $30,000 Debbie estimated it would cost for Badgley Mischka to design my opus. “Of course,” cautioned my correspondant, “the cost really depends on the quality of the materials.” In other words, I have to decide whether I want to use European (more expensive) or Asian (less expensive) silks, whether I want glass beads or Svarovski crystals, and whether I want to outsource the embroidery for the “more than a mile of organza” needed to complete the dress’ outer skirt to India or China or simply use hand beaded lace appliques on the petals. The seamstress said that the appliques would be just as pretty, and much less expensive (not to mention that they would allow me to avoid the ethical problem of using sweatshop embroidery).

I am happy to report that this dress sounds as if it could theoretically come together at some point. For now, I’m going to put it on the back burner. After all, I really shouldn’t start planning my wedding until after I graduate from college, find a job, and spend another four to six years being a 20-something. Still, as a princess, it’s nice to know that I’ve already found the perfect princess dress for when I decide to become a princess bride.
______

And now for a bit of poetry

Ode to Debbie

Oh Debbie my dear, more gorgeous than diamonds
By sight she can tell precious stones from mere Ziamonds.
She can instantly assay the difference, it’s true
Between lesser and greater creators of shoes.

My dear friend, you’re wonderful. Don’t let life sour
Your zest and your drive, for you have the power
To instantly make all fools grovel and whimper
For fear that you’ll wear them as beasties in winter.

So don’t get discouraged, and don’t give up hope.
You’ve already gotten past life’s velvet rope.
Just hold up your head, grab your Elsa Peretti,
Your friends are beside you, you’re certainly ready!

The Gown Symbolizes the Richness of Our Love

“Your subconscious is crying out for a richer boyfriend. You should date Fraser!” - Andy after I told him about my dream last night in which he bought me a $60,000 limited edition Dior gown studded with diamonds.