Study Abroad: Minneapolis

It's a bon, bon vie.
Let me preface this post by coming out as an Anne of Green Gables (the mini series) super fan. With numbers that can’t be drastically larger than the never nude population, when you find another who is as enamored by Megan Follows spot on performance of a loquacious orphan with flowing carrot colored hair, in short—you bond. A coworker and I shared this bond and at its height I would draw her pictures every morning of Anne in various scenarios ranging from actual movie scenes to hypotheticals (Anne of Cabrini Green, etc.) So in honor of that and the loss of my mind while studying for the GRE, I figured I might share a quick Anne sketch with the world as I walk to the gallows (aka a pro metric testing facility in Edina, MN) 
Enjoy!

Let me preface this post by coming out as an Anne of Green Gables (the mini series) super fan. With numbers that can’t be drastically larger than the never nude population, when you find another who is as enamored by Megan Follows spot on performance of a loquacious orphan with flowing carrot colored hair, in short—you bond. A coworker and I shared this bond and at its height I would draw her pictures every morning of Anne in various scenarios ranging from actual movie scenes to hypotheticals (Anne of Cabrini Green, etc.) So in honor of that and the loss of my mind while studying for the GRE, I figured I might share a quick Anne sketch with the world as I walk to the gallows (aka a pro metric testing facility in Edina, MN)
Enjoy!

Early at the airport for once in my life, I decided to take my time and read before getting in the security line because I had a mobile boarding pass and a full cup of coffee.

I casually watched the TSA line grow and eventually made my way over. After waiting a bit longer than I’d calculated for I stepped up to the desk where I presented my incorrect boarding pass.
‘Nah, you need the one with the box, ya know?’ was the very Minnesota response I got and was ushered to the side to figure my shiz out.

After wading through a sea of United links I finally found ‘the box one’ and proudly handed it over to the agent.
‘hmmm, this boarding pass says John Smith, and your ID says Greg Peterson…I’m afraid I can’t let you through.’

As I began to sweat profusely and freak out in front of an incredibly stylish group of international students, the TSA agent let out a laugh worthy of Fran Drescher and told me she was just joking.

Look.

I appreciate a prank as much as the next guy, especially when they make a vague seasonal pun, but seriously, at airport security? The place where you basically get cussed out for not removing your belt immediately, where a forgotten quarter in your pocket is considered a felony, and a smile puts you on a watch list?

Anyways, time to board…hoping the captain doesn’t make any ‘jokes’ about the plane crashing!

Life’s a beach, and sometimes a ghost at a beach. (Halloween pt 1)

Many factors went into the record low amount of excitement/preparation for Halloween 2012. Races, weddings, and fall trips were at the top of the ‘more important than Halloween prep’ list and the fact that it was on a Wednesday basically made everyone want to jump off a bridge…or just not celebrate it. 

Our rag tag group of holiday loyalists lazily discussed the pros and cons of group costumes for much of October, aka drank wine and turned any singular idea into a group of that idea and were momentarily enamored with it. (see: playground slide to schoolyard games, unicorn to mythological creatures, pinterest to social media and Tobias Funque to…well a group of Tobias Funques)

Add to this process the confounding factor of going out two separate nights with two separate costumes and you’ve got yourself a catastrophic costume conundrum the size of California! It would be easy to freak out and/or hide out until November 1st, but that’s not our style, so we followed some great advice instead.

With great love of themed events, comes great costume responsibility.

-Somebody dressed as Spiderman (and NOT a store bought costume)

Cut to Friday morning, Halloween night 1 looming, feeling guilty about seeing Argo instead of costume planning the night before (great movie by the way!), and experiencing one of the most profound creativity droughts in my extensive history of costume making—it was time to make a decision.

And the decision that Sean and I came to was…ghosts at the beach.

The process of coming to that conclusion was lost in what I can only assume was a fugue state brought on by unprepared for Halloween panic attacks, but in retrospect it was probably 2 parts laziness, 1 part paying homage to the classic Halloween ghost costume and a serious splash of crazy.

After haggling with multiple target employees about the listed price of king size white jersey sheets vs. the register price of king size white jersey sheets, victory was mine and I checked out with a $20 sheet set, 2 pairs of jack o’lantern socks and pumpkin coozies.

Halloween was mine for the taking.

The next few hours were a blur of raggedly trimming the sheets, crafting up ‘ghost sunblock’ with SPF 1,000,000, and donning the bathing suits we wore all summer, only now realizing how tiny they are when streaming sheets through the legs was an epic struggle. And then came the eye and mouth holes. I don’t know what image Hollywood put in my mind about ghost costumes but the eye and mouth holes always seemed simple, and dark, and well shaped and stayed in place. They weren’t gaping voids showing a really strange and unappealing sliver of half nose/half lip for the mouth and a hairline where your eye should be. But we were late, and lazy and incompetent at sewing so the holes remained as they were and we set out on our adventure of a night as ghosts at the beach.

After performing ‘party tricks’ of eating and drinking through our horrendous mouth holes (I really don’t like the phrase ‘mouth hole’), our group, comprised of Leslie Knope and Ben Wyatt from Parks and Rec, Miss Piggy, a giraffe and the other guy from Wham!, headed out to see an E.L.O. cover band and get rowdy.

As we roll up to the bar, the cab pulls away and my ghost counterpart realizes he does not have his ID. Ghost sunblock, check! Sunglasses, check! The only thing that you actually need for entrance into a drinking establishment, not check! Calling the cab co. is useless and E.L.O. was set to start at any moment! The thought of missing all the songs we didn’t know we loved by a band we didn’t know was E.L.O. was too much to bear, it was time to act fast. In our second cab of the night, explaining our ridiculous costumes for the second time we raced home to get beach ghost Sean’s passport. Pulling up to the apartment, Sean runs up the stairs screaming that he’ll be faster than Olympic runner Usain Bolt, a reference curiously lost on our cab driver.

After bidding adieu (ad-boo!, French ghosts? Ghosts at Nice?) to our jolly cab driver we once again watch him pull away only to realize that we had been thwarted by the ID gods once again. “Holy shit. This is not my passport. This is NOT my passport!” was the chorus that rang through the night as Sean realized that he had grabbed a similarly shaped booklet that was given out during a promotional Google ‘Field Trip’ day where you explored different areas of the city and took notes in your field guide. I was already to phase 3 in a plan to draw a fake picture in the fake passport and blow the breakers at the bar when Sean found his expired ID tucked into the fake passport.

Miraculously, we made it inside and enjoyed a wonderfully wacky night where we danced like ghosts to the E.L.O. cover band covering Duran Duran, spilled all over ourselves trying to drink through our ever morphing mouth holes and eventually turned our costumes into togas so people would stop likening us to Jihadists.

The night ended as most sloppy nights do, eating chicken fingers at 2:30 am at the Uptown Diner, a spooky place indeed.

BOO!

One of my favorite parts of traveling: my boarding pass alter ego ‘Grego’.

One of my least favorite parts of traveling: that moment when there’s a giant line behind you while boarding and you’re on your knees putting on every sweater in your bag so your questionable carry on item is allowed. 

Hi-ho, hi-ho, off to Denver I go!

One of my favorite parts of traveling: my boarding pass alter ego ‘Grego’.

One of my least favorite parts of traveling: that moment when there’s a giant line behind you while boarding and you’re on your knees putting on every sweater in your bag so your questionable carry on item is allowed.

Hi-ho, hi-ho, off to Denver I go!

Sleeping Beauty.

Some mornings, you wake up with the sun shining on you, take a big stretch and nuzzle into the covers.

Other mornings, you wake up in the dark and immediately and inexplicably grab the face of your sleeping boyfriend.

This morning just happened to be the latter.

Sometimes you’ve just gotta buy a bushel of mums and don your Halloween socks on a glowing October afternoon.

Sometimes you’ve just gotta buy a bushel of mums and don your Halloween socks on a glowing October afternoon.

Last night I had a dream that while reading a book, I had to butter every page as I flipped it. 

I wonder what that means.

Possible interpretations:

1) With the transition from summer to fall, it’s time to ‘fatten up’ my reading material.

2) I have an obsession with the crossing out of items on to-do lists and am treating every page read as an accomplishment, thus marking it with butter.

3) It’s foreshadowing and one day I might actually start doing this! (SORRY HENNEPIN COUNTY LIBRARY)

4) Butter is good.

I’m a sucker for depth, so naturally I’m leaning towards number 4, but really it’s anyone’s guess!

Dire Straits (& not the ‘Romeo and Juliet’ band)

As I sit here typing this, my knee is at perhaps the most disgusting it’s ever been in my life due to a misguided kickball slide last night. Red, swollen and pussing (I DON’T CARE THAT ‘PUSSING’ IS NOT A WORD TUMBLR, NOT NOW), it has me flashing forward to life with one leg.

I feel like Henry VIII after his jousting accident, and what’s jousting if not the medieval form of kickball?? I just hope that this doesn’t lead me down the same path that he traveled…first the accident, then the misogyny, then syphilis, then DEATH. 

To make matters worse (oh they get worse) it’s the beginning of that early fall weather where shorts are ok during the dayyyy, but at night you look like a major doofus if you’re not wearing pants…and who wants to be a doofus!

After far too much time in multiple ‘what do I do if my cut is pussing A LOT’ forums, I’m preparing for the worst.

I’ll keep you posted, but for now…if you see any groupons for prosthetic limbs, LMK, thx. 

The things that bring me back..

So after a 4, maybe 5 month unplanned hiatus from tumblr…who would think that a gritty movie about a con man facilitating a sexual assault in a fast food restaurant would be the thing that got me so riled up that I had to spew some review on the ole blog.

Compliance was rough to watch. 

Even more so because it was based on true events. Probably a quarter of the theater walked out halfway through the film, and another quarter, judging by their awkward laughter during some disturbing scenes did not grasp the severity of the situations being portrayed.

It was rough as a sociology major, having researched studies where complete power was given to half of a group of everyday normal people and the most inhumane events occurred because of it. (Zimbardo’s Stanford Prison Experiment, Milgram’s Shock Therapy Experiment)

It was rough as someone who has worked in the service industry since the age of 15 years old and knows the vulnerability of financially needing a job, and knows personally the bosses who would have acted the exact same way, brainwashed by the idea of a ‘higher up’ telling them that these actions are not only mandatory but ‘protocol’.

It was rough as someone who has had confrontations with authority figures and been outrageously mistreated and shocked to the point of submission.

It’s horrifying to think of how many people don’t know their rights, and maybe more horrifying to think of how many people don’t know right from wrong.

So yeah, it was rough. But it’s also pretty important to watch.

If you see this film, absolutely watch the news reports on the actual events afterwards.

They are identical.

Doing some work at home and absentmindedly listening to the news in the background about Al Gore’s latest project of flipping an old colonial house into a bed and breakfast, jokingly stating that ‘every room is inspired by sex’…here I am wondering ‘why does he have nothing better to do?’, ‘why are they not highlighting environmental updates?’ and finally ‘WHY HAVE I HEARD ‘AL GORE’ IN PLACE OF ‘RICHARD GERE’ FOR THIS ENTIRE SEGMENT??’

My brain is officially fried.