He's ENGAGED?!?!?!?!

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The sun was already well along its downward arc as we sped along the banks of the River Weser, passing the round, white shapes of the naked Germans amid the grass. It was Bremen, so there was no need to chain our bicycles; we just parked them next to a bench and shed our over-clothing. In the spirit of adventure in foreign lands, Gina shed her top and leaped quickly into the murky, neck-deep water. Jeff and I had been planning this trip for a while- we wanted to swim out to the little island in the middle of the Weser, perhaps to found a new island kingdom. The water had more duck waste in it than we were expecting, and the sharp corners of the invasive zebra mussels cut into our feet near the banks. We donned our flip-flops for protection and set out for the island, ducks swimming past us curiously. The river became deep and cold, but still we paddled on, awkward in our protective footgear.

We reached the island and Jeff and I ran ashore. Gina was hesitant. She hadn't realized that we were going to explore the island... she'd expected to have her toplessness confined to the safety of the water. But not one to miss out on an adventure and too far to swim back, she wrapped her thin brown arms about herself and scurried after us. She looked like a wild thing, loping about with her arms protectively around her body and her leopard-print swim-suit bottoms. The island was hardly an island at all, as the water permeated all of the soil and pooled at the roots of the trees. The underbrush was impenetrable in most places and the sun struggled to shine through the brambled canopy. Not exactly the best place to establish a new kingdom, especially considering the amount of bird excrement lying about. Plus, Gina was starting to shiver.

So alas, we returned to the river, startling the wildfowl. We swam about for a bit longer and then returned to shore, somewhat loathe to return our scummy bodies to our clean, dry clothes. But for Gina, who hurried back into her swimming suit top, we stayed as we were. We rode quite unabashedly back into town in the golden light of afternoon in our swimming gear with our towels around our necks, a picture of summer.

***

Turns out that Jeff is one of the ~8 new grad students coming next year to our department! What are the odds?

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So I graduated.



I am a master of science!

Onwards!

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My car is fixed. Click this ::link:: to hear how my car sounds now.

Oh, what, it sounds like nothing?

Yes, well, that is how my car sounds too. Like nothing. Brilliant.

My car has been returned to stealth mode.

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::Sorry. The entry was simply unfinished. I have to figure out how to change that passworded message::

Tonight is the ball. Will I make it to the ball?
I haven't got a dress! Alack!
I haven't got a date! Alack!

Ahh... last year I had a dress and a date*. A dashing young Johns Hopkins graduate with a master's degree in international relations, working in Washington DC, and about to become an officer in the Army. Sounds like the 40s! And the dress!

This year I'll just have to get sloshed and dance the foxtrot with a bunch of drunken alums. And by that I mean stand shyly at the edge of the dance floor until I get tired and take off my shoes and sit in a chair for the rest of the evening, watching old alums doing the foxtrot. I'll probably wear the same dress as last year. Who am I trying to impress?

*ok, so he was a friend from high school up to visit for the weekend. Same thing.

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So I got my car registered (finally). Because I'd never had it registered in my name after my parents sold it to me, I had to pay tax. To RHODE ISLAND. Who had absolutely nothing to do with the sale of this car. And since they technically sold it to me in 2006, I had to pay a LATE FEE on the tax. Well, the late fee was only like $3.50, but still. And I had to pay in cash, so I had to run to the ATM, which charged me $2.75 for not being my ATM. But it doesn't matter, because Sovereign Bank, the best bank EVER, pays me back for that stuff.

Then they told me that this means I MUST get a Rhode Island driver's license within the next 30 days or face citation. They're turning me into one of them! Noo!!! I couldn't get a license because I can't find my Social Security card. I have no idea where it is. So I went to the Social Security Administration downtown and applied for a duplicate. The guy was really nice.

So then they said I had to get the car emissions tested in the next five business days. Which probably means I have to fix the exhaust problem I've been having (Not me, the car) (ok, me too, but mostly the car.) But the last time I went to Midas they scolded me for having a broken hood latch, and I didn't really feel like returning more than 6 months later not having fixed it. So I decided I had to fix my hood latch. Plus I realized that the emissions test was also a safety test, and I doubted they would pass me on the safety test if they knew I had my hood bungee-corded down. All I needed was to move the hood latch <2mm. I could move it 1mm, which made the hood stick up more dangerously than before, as it was resting on the latch.

I sat deep in thought, imagining who in the department was stronger than I. Not an easy task, given the way I consistently exaggerate my own strength in my mind. I don't need a man to open my jars. I open other people jars, for heaven's sake. But then it struck me. Why, the Welshman, of course. He's been going to the gym nigh twice a day. I needed a brauny Welshman.

I emailed the Welshman and he was available, and I drove my car over. I left it for less than five minutes and when I re-emerged, Welshman in tow, I had a PARKING TICKET. This is because I'd parked somewhere on this street sometime this morning when I ran in to do some things, and then parked here again many hours later to run to get the Welshman. MEANING THAT MY PARKING TICKET WAS A HUGE SHAM! I said this very loudly, knowing that the parking attendent was several cars down, and that he probably SAW me PARKING THE CAR a few minutes ago... but to no avail. Goodbye, $20.

The Welshman fixed my hood latch. Not through braun, as it turned out, but with ingenuity. All I needed was an ingenious, brauny Welshman. Good thing there was one handy.

Tomorrow I will venture out to get my exhaust system fixed and my car emissions/safety checked. Then I will wipe the rest of the mold, algae, and dirty water out of my trunk, vacuum the floors and seats, wash the body, and get my driver's license. I may actually get to work sometime on Friday. Currently I've just been popping into work at random times of the day in full view of my advisor and leaving some projects lying about looking like they're in the middle of being done, emailing people at random times from home, and thus far everyone in my office assumes I'm in the computer lab and everyone in the computer lab thinks I'm in my office.

I may be in the library, no one could know. (I was at the library today, but it was the public library, getting the sequel to "The City of Ember")
I may be at home doing laundry. (I was)
I may be eating Spaghetti-Os and baking cookies. (I was)
I could be in the other building, doing work in the other computer lab. (I definitely wasn't)

Truth be told, I've ignored my real life for the entire semester, so I can ignore work for a couple days while I catch up on the last five months of my life.

Only the Welshman can know the truth. And all of you, dear readers.

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Srog the Dane is leaving today to go back to Denmark. We will all miss her terribly- especially the way that she reacts when she sees stretch Hummer limos, and the way she hates baseball, and the way she laughs uproariously while listening to Danish radio in the lab on her headphones. To give her a proper send-off, I spent yesterday making her a couple of mix CDs. One of them is a country music CD, since she had no idea and cannot fathom why Americans listen to so much country music, as none of this music goes beyond our borders. The important thing about country music is that the song sings your own life back to you, so I chose songs that might do that.

Srog the Dane is in a tough spot, as her boyfriend of 3.5 years broke up with her while she was in America. On facebook. For no reason. Now she has a ticket to Australia to visit him which is most likely non-refundable and a dilemma.

I've had friends in this dilemma before. Plane ticket to exotic location X to spend time with boyfriend or girlfriend. Jerkwad significant other (jwso) dumps kind, caring, unsuspecting friend a very short time before the trip. Unsuspecting friend only occasionally realizes that they've been dumped so that their jwso can date someone they've had their eye on in exotic location X. That's what exotic location X is all about. Unsuspecting friend is confused because jwso is acting really nice and still really excited about his/her visit. Unsuspecting friend doesn't realize that it's because jwso wants to have a wild fling with exotic foreign sexpot but also wants to get back together with unsuspecting friend afterwards because they had a really good thing together and they don't want to give it up. This phenomenon is called "Trying to have it both ways."

If jwso is charming enough, and unsuspecting friend is blinded enough by love, or lacks friends to tell him or her that jwso is a moronic selfish jerkwad, then it just might work. Amazingly, while unsuspecting friend may be intelligent and presceptive with an amazing emotional IQ, they will almost never be able to recognize their own situation for what it is.

Invariably, unsuspecting friend goes to exotic location X and it ends up a) disasterously b) awkwardly c) that they get back together as if nothing happened, but it did happen, so it will never be the same, and someday unsuspecting friend will find out about exotic foreign sexpot and THEN it will be disasterous.
Unsuspecting friend can't help but go to exotic location X because it's a trip-of-a-life-time, they don't want to waste the large sum of money they paid for the ticket, etc, but mostly because they can't let the relationship end without a large amount of drama (aka "figuring out what he/she is thinking because it doesn't make any sense and is confusing"). Actually it isn't confusing, it is very clear, but I still don't blame them one bit.

THE SOLUTION: Don't cancel your trip to exotic place X. It truly is a chance in a lifetime. Plus, you don't want to associate exotic place X with feeling terrible-- then you'll never go there. Go! BUT DON'T VISIT YOUR GDJWSO!!! If you can, get someone else to come with you. If you can't, just bum around the place! Problem is, some people don't do any traveling at all but decide that they can do it this once because jwso will be there to show them around. Plus, they didn't factor in the cost of staying someplace, because they were going to stay with jwso. This is why you must have at least two friends in every country in the world.

THE REAL SOLUTION:
If you are an s.o. in an exotic place, the proper thing to do is to break up with my unsuspecting friend before you leave or wait until you get back. If you must break up with my unsuspecting friend, do it because you never ever want to get back together with them again. If you are an unsuspecting friend, make sure to realize that if Japan or Australia is involved in any way, your relationship is probably over. By the way, this doesn't give you a license to romance a better-than-nothing domestic sexpot, either.

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