Now I know how pick up sticks got invented.

So Lauren and I have revived our freshman/sophomore year letter (yes, the kind you have to get stamps for and mail) correspondence. Not only is it awesome to keep in touch the old-fashioned way, Lauren has AWESOME ideas for letter-writing. The most recent one was on the back of book title pages. They are now decorating my wall. Click on the picture to check out some of her selections!

Apparently Pepperidge Farms thinks it's funny to name all of their cookies after different world cities. Which have they selected to represent the US? Nantucket and Tahoe. I am OFFENDED. In other news, I'm filing this knowledge away under the "future world tours of food" tab. In my mental filing cabinets (they are staunch supporters of the Dewey System).

In other kitchen mishap news, I discovered that juggling an open box of pasta is unwise. Inadvertently, I also discovered how pick-up sticks was invented. Some desperate parent probably accidentally/purposefully dropped spaghetti on the floor and designed rules to distract/force cleaning upon his or her children. I didn't have anyone to play with though, so I was not as amused.

Barbie called, she wants her cement mixer back.

I get it, breast cancer awareness ... But still, I thought this was pretty hilarious. AND awesome. Awesomely hilarious.

The roof, the roof, the roof is [not] on FIRE

So remember that time I set off the fire alarm? No, not making sausages for Family Dinner Friday in Hillside. Nope, not that time I was making a grilled tortilla in Susquehanna either (that was the BUILDING alarm, too). I'm talking about that time five minutes ago when I was making these salt-and-vinegar-potatoes-of-awesomeness.

IN MY DEFENSE, they aren't even burned! They aren't even fully COOKED! I don't understand why my fire alarmS (yes, one in my bedroom and one in the living room) went off, but suffice it to say that I doubt I will sleep through any housefires. Silver lining: I tested them (but not really?) and they worked. The alternating pitch, earsplitting squeal, one-two punch is nothing if not effective. Of greater importance, as of right now, I haven't triggered the building alarm. I have a feeling the building alarm brings the firetrucks.

Note to self: No firetrucks.

 The real problem here is that these salt and vinegar chip-potatoes are DELICIOUS (I just ate them ALL to calm my nerves). They weren't as crispy as they should have been, and yet they were awesome. Little did I know, soaking potatoes in white vinegar and then slathering them in salt, pepper and olive oil is basically the food of the gods. Now, when I inevitably want to make more (so like, in a few hours for dinner?), I'm going to have to find a way to aerate my apartment and trick my fire alarms into thinking I'm doing something else.

Maybe they aren't sensing fires, they're sensing deliciousness and they're trying to stop me from eating it all. Jerks.

Neither here nor there

Some things from around campus ...

A few weeks ago the Bud Light merchandise people were at The Inferno, which is the [unofficial official] political science grad student bar of State College ... And somehow my quest for some Bud light ray bans culminated in this impressive display of pride in something I would never, ever drink.

Coordinates nicely with my Bacardi collection from the week before ... Is this what grad school is?

In attempt to restore my reputation, I'll bring things back to what grad school really is. Which means spending as much time as I possibly can *NOT* being in this building. This is Pond Lab, home of the political science department. Don't be fooled by the classy exterior, it still has that middle school smell on the inside. And period furniture.

I awkwardly got in the way of a kid who was trying to go up these stairs, but I simply couldn't resist documenting the architectural marvel of this library staircase ... Which somehow replicates that parking garage feeling to which I thought only Binghamton's Engineering building could stake a true claim. Guess I was wrong. The actual library looks quite nice, although I'll admit that I much prefer being holed up in my apartment with an endless supply of snacks and hot beverages.

I couldn't decide which part of this was more disturbing - the actual blood donating part (trying to get up the courage to try it, but it terrifies me) or the fact that they are implying that I would like to bleed blue. Or is this some twisted social commentary on blue-bloods? Regardless, it certainly gave me something to gag about. (Incidentally, is that the mascot? He bears a tenuous resemblance to the "Nittany lion" I see plastered around town ... Nevermind the fact I don't know what Nittany means/is.)

I had been planning to update more, but I accidentally broke my phone charger (when it looks broken but still works, you should not attempt to make it look normal ... because you will break it for real). Here's hoping the one from Amazon doesn't vanish into the vortex that is apparently the State College mail delivery system.

The Land Before Time

So I was going through my browser settings, and trying to make sure I didn't have any unwanted cookies tracking my location (cough like these cough), and in Chrome's "Under the hood" tab, I was given some options about how far back I wanted to clear my browsing data. My personal favorite? Well, you can see it in the picture below ... "the beginning of time." How grandiose.

I would like to point out the fact that the websites I visit are rather mundane and unimpressive, but I don't think anybody needs to see all of them. Feels like I'm being creeped on by a multinational corporation, and I'm just enough of a crazy hippie to find that annoying. Ah, another day in the 21st century. 

Breaking up is hard to do

The time has come. I am walking away from Facebook.

"HERESY!" You shout. "Blasphemy!" You cry, as you gently avert your children's eyes.

"Why?" You might ask, after the initial horror has passed.

Because I have no self-restraint. Because I haven't liked a single change they've made to the site since they opened it up to everyone and their mom (literally). Because I have seen the future, and I want no part of it (if you haven't, check THIS out). Because the golden age of technology has taught me the importance of privacy, and I have developed an affinity for it(she says, with a trace of irony, as she posts her manifesto onto her blog)."Because," I respond, "I want my life back."

The changes Facebook has in the works would demand weeks of careful nitpicking over my entire history on their site, just to adjust it to suit my sense of privacy (never mind the potential for hackers). There are some things, Facebook, that I am perfectly happy to have forgotten. For the rest, I have Twitter, LinkedIn, and an indelible record of Pipe Dream columns. Quite frankly, I don't think the world cares this much about what I do, and if it does, well, that's rather creepy.

In the meantime, I'll be falling back on Gmail, Gchat, Skype, Twitter, LinkedIn, my professional site, BBM, my blog ... And lest we forget ... My cellphone. You can probably find a way to contact me, if you're trying.

Of Men and Mortals.

The death penalty needs to stop. Enough of federalism, this is what the national government is for.

Fortunately, there are people and sources like Democracy Now! to tell us about the important things.