Thoughts on Housing

The terrifying thought of having to move again has been on my mind lately.

It's not terrifying because moving scares me.

It's terrifying because I have to find somewhere to live and move in to by the end of May.

That seems like a long enough time for most people, but some of us just need closure, reassurance and a good amount of time to plan.

Although I'm not sure whether I'm going to stay in Tucson or move to far off and exotic locations like Chicago or Urbana, Illinois, or Eugene, Oregon, I feel like I need to start looking at housing already. Doing so is, unfortunately, depressing.

I started by looking at Tucson. Not because I want to move out of my current apartment, which I love. But because there might be the opportunity to find a just-as-nice place closer to campus, which would mean I could waste less gas driving around Tucson 5+ days a week.

But everything worth looking at is available NOW. Not in three months, not in four. But immediately.

Nobody else seems to think ahead and say, hey, I'm moving out in May. Maybe someone looking to move in a few months would be currently looking for a place like mine. No, the housing market close to campus seems to be such that you up "For Rent" signs and ads after you've moved out and hope somebody snatches the property up immediately.

Why is this particularly terrifying?

Because last year we looked and looked in February for a place to live. And all the landlords said, "You have to wait until after spring break." So we did. And the first week of school after spring break, EVERYTHING WAS ALREADY RENTED!

If only everyone else was a plans-in-advance person like me. Things would be so much easier.

More Complicated Than Necessary

Most upper-division coursework is time-consuming. It' s not all hard, challenging, difficult, etc. But it's time consuming. Working on a thesis is an added time-eater. But working on two theses is even worse.

It's been a joy to do a thesis in the UA German studies department. It's very relaxed, deadlines are flexible, and I have a lot of freedom in the topic I can use and type of research I can do. Even though it's a lot of work, it doesn't feel stressful.

The Honors College was pretty mellow about theses. When I spoke to an adviser there, she said I could write a poem for my senior thesis as long as it was relevant, and that would be fantastic. She did say some departments have their own requirements you have to adhere to, though.

The journalism department is one of those with it's own requirements. And let me tell you, it sucks.

It makes the most sense to me that, on a two-semester project, you spend one semester doing research and one writing, editing and turning in the thesis. Not so in the UA journalism department.

Instead, you spend one semester writing a proposal. A proposal about the thesis you're going to do. You can't do research until you've finished the proposal, which takes the whole semester.

Then, you're expected to start your research over winter break. You know, during the time you spend with family and friends you haven't really spent time with since the summer. Time you should be spending unwinding, especially after a semester of 22 credits. But no, the journalism department doesn't allow rest.

So coming into the spring semester, I hadn't done much research for the journalism thesis. Honestly, it just wasn't feasible during my busy (and partially sickly) winter break. And I don't think it should have been required.

I met with my adviser this week, three weeks into the semester. I basically got in trouble because my research isn't done yet. She asked how much my grade and the thesis really meant to me, and suggested I take another semester to do it. Why? Because she doesn't think I have the time to produce anything remotely good.

Gee, it's not my fault I have less than one semester to do a shit-ton of research AND write a 50-page thesis.

I mean, who comes up with these rules? Why do you have to write a stupid proposal for something when you're supposed to be working on that something? Today, I feel writing a proposal was a complete and utter waste of my time when I could have been doing research that was meaningful to my work.

If the department wants students to write a proposal so badly, they should make it a pre-requirement for the thesis--something you do the spring of your junior year. That would make so much more sense and would be a far better use of time. That way you really know you want to work on your project before you get started, and you have plenty of time to do the necessary research. But I don't make the rules.

So for all those honors students out there considering a thesis in journalism, write it for your minor or your other major, but NOT for journalism!

SNOW!!!

Ok, so it's not snow. Not really. Not all of it, anyway.

I woke up this morning to discover my car was white. Not with frost as Ian insisted, but chunky, cold, white, glorious, gleaming snow.

Granted, it was gone by 8:30 am, but I was super excited anyway.

Based on my previous calculations, it should be 70 degrees this week. But it was cold enough to snow last night, it's been rainy and chilly. And you know what? The forecast calls for "bermuda shorts weather" this weekend.

PROOF! Proof that the weather in Tucson really is on acid.

Cruel, cruel weather

January and February in Arizona: schizophrenic.

Anyone from anywhere else would wonder how I can possibly compare the first months of the year with a mental illness. It's really quite simple.

First week of January: 60s
Second week of January: 70s
Third week of January: 65
Fourth week of January: 40s
First week of February: 55
Second week of February: 70s (my prediction)

That's the temperature, rising up and down, back and forth, all over the place.

Not only is the temperature wild and crazy, but so is the weather. Rain, sun, rain, sun, clouds, clouds, sun, rain, sun, clouds, Snow. You can never be prepared for anything--you never know what the day will end with.

And what's worse, is if you go shopping, store displays are just there to rub it in. Going shopping the second week of January, all the winter stuff is on clearance. Blah, you think, too hot for this stuff.
Going shopping the next week, there are shorts and t-shirts everywhere. Geez, you think, shivering in a sweater, jacket and three shirts, isn't it a bit cold for shorts?

And the worst part? It doesn't get any better after February--the weather's loony here 12 months a year.

That's what I hate about Arizona. The weather's unstable and I never know what to wear. If I complain that it's too cold, it's because it was 90 degrees yesterday and I'm wearing a t-shirt--and it's 55 degrees today. If I complain it's too hot, it's probably because it was 32 degrees and rainy this morning, so I decided to wear a sweater and rain jacket to work. And it's after work, sunny and a humid 85 degrees.

If you want reliable weather...if you always want to be prepared by wearing the right thing...Arizona is not the place for you.

Native Arizonan

After days of waiting, biting down all my fingernails at the thought of incurring $50 late fee charges because of bureaucratic miscommunication, I am now officially an Arizona resident again. Whew.

Campus Fashion

After four years, you'd think some things would go out of fashion forever. Especially things that were never fashionable or attractive in the first place, like Ugg boots.

There never ceases to be a plethora of girls wearing them on the UA campus--spring, summer, fall or winter. I have ranted about this phenomenon many times in the past; I am vehemently anti-Ugg boot.

I never really thought much about the rest of the Ugg outfit, though. The most appalling thing I've ever seen has been a girl, in January, wearing red hot pants, a gold puffy jacket with a faux fur collar and ugg boots. Coming in at a close second were the girls last spring and the spring previous who wore ugg boots with mini skirts. Those are fashion nightmares if ever there was one.

But the most common Ugg uniform is a track suit (usually Victoria's Secret with "PINK" plastered on the ass not in pink), bottoms stuffed haphazardly into the unshapely vomit-colored Ugg boots, or jeans and a sweatshirt or t-shirt (or t-shirt under a sweatshirt, take your pick). While these two combinations are more appropriate for said hideous footwear, the overall picture is a sad one. Young, attractive college women choose to run around in public looking like slobs.

It's the uniform, it's what they do. They get up, tie their hair messily back into a crappy bun or pony tail, plaster their faces with makeup (or leave their faces pastily plain), and tug on a UofA shirt and jeans, and the most unflattering shoes possible.

What does this say about fashion in Tucson? Nothing good.

What does this say about the fashion sense of many future business women, researchers, journalists, publicists and trophy wives? Certainly nothing good.

My point?

Somebody needs to burn all forms of "comfy" shoes. Otherwise, the idea of being fashionable when you're young is just going to be something future generations think of when they think about Elvis and Marilyn Monroe--long long ago, very attractive, but irrelevant.

Putting the "care" in healthcare.

You're a student. You wake up: very sore throat, dry painful deep-chest cough, migraine, sniffly, achey. So you call in sick to work, let your teachers know you won't be in class (if you're responsible, like me). Laying in bed, you decide to call mommy & daddy to see what you should do. Mommy thinks about your symptoms, looks up the Mayo Clinic's flu symptoms check list. You have all symptoms except two. There's a good chance you can get pneumonia if you don't get treated (especially if you lead a high-pace lifestyle, like I do). So you go to good ol' Campus Health, the cheap, reliable place for students to get treated on campus.

Not.

This was me on Wednesday. I went to Campus Health. I called in advance and was told there would be about an hour wait, but some people would leave and flu symptoms would put me in ahead of others with less serious symptoms. Cool.

I saw my friend Mike there. He had similar symptoms, had felt sick a few days earlier. He went in to triage because he kept throwing up. What did they do? Gave him a pamphlet on how to stop vomiting and sent him home. Great.

An hour and a half later, I finally get called in. Everyone who came before me and everyone who came after me, except for about five people, had gone in before I got called. That's about 35 people Campus Health deemed to have more serious symptoms than I did, as I sat in the waiting room in an uncomfortable chair, shivering violently because I had the chills.

The nurse takes me in, has me sit down. I tell her I think I have the flu. She says "uh, huh." I tell her my symptoms. She glares at me. She takes my temperature. "You don't have a high enough fever to have the flu." I tell her I felt I needed to come in because I'm afraid I'll get sicker if I don't get treated, like I'll get strep throat (has happened on many occasions in the past). "Your throat's not sore enough to have strep throat," she says without asking how sore my throat is. She doesn't ask what my pain level is like on a 1-5 scale, which I've been told by another medical professional is a requirement.

She looks in my ears. "They're sort of swollen, but I don't think you have an ear infection."

She looks down my throat. "Nope, it's not red. You probably have the beginnings of an ear infection."

She gives me a tylenol and tells me to go to urgent care somewhere else. She says they're too busy to see me tonight.

I start crying because I'm so frustrated. An hour and a half wait and all I get is a headache pill and a referral? Rediculous. No wonder I hate going to the doctor when I don't feel well.

"Oh, you must be a little bit uncomfortable," she says.

YOU THINK?????

"Do you have a car?" she asks, pointing out the other urgent care options on the list she hands me, without bothering to ask if I feel well enough to drive myself somewhere--which, at the time, I don't.

Infuriated, I leave the clinic and tell my parents about the episode over the phone, in tears. They are also upset. My mom calls the MinuteClinic hotline (the one the nurse suggested, and also the closest to my apartment), and finds out they don't take our insurance. But I don't want to go to an emergency room. If I have the flu, then EVERYONE else in Tucson must also be ill and in the emergency room.

So, I go to the MinuteClinic, which is in a CVS. Kind of weird, kind of ghetto. It's a 20 minute wait. And I have to pee really badly, because I didn't go the whole time I was at Campus Health because I thought the second I went into the bathroom they'd call me to come in. Some good that did me.

The nurse practitioner at the MinuteClinic is very friendly and helpful. I tell her my symptoms, and she automatically says that sounds like the flu. I tell her what Campus Health told me, and she shakes her head. I tell her about the pamphlet they gave Mike, and she laughs scornfully. Campus assholes.

She gives me a flu test--she takes a long q-tip and swabs the insides of each nostril, way up inside and very ticklish. It takes 15 minutes to "cook", during which time she fills out my information on the computer and takes down all of my symptoms again.

After 15 minutes, the test says I am positive for Type A Influenza. Gee.

She prescribes me two meds and I get to go to the pharmacy to have them filled. And, there was a promo with my insurance company, so I only had to pay for the visit, not for the flu test. $59 is better than $96.

I was also told not to go to school or work for five days so I don't morph into a sticky bundle of pneumonia. If I'd followed Campus Health's instructions, I'd be out spreading the plague all over the place, and probably waking up with cold sweats and rust-colored sputum (the danger signs the nurse practitioner said I needed to watch out for for pneumonia).

So, I'm going to file a complaint on campus. Clearly, the triage people just wanted to go home (it was getting close to 5 pm). And what kind of urgent care center is only open until 5 pm, especially on a campus with 37,000 students and god-knows-how-many faculty, staff and employees? And giving a bad diagnosis just so you can turn students away? That's outrageous, and it's poor practice.

Playing Catch-Up

The more I have conversations with interesting people, the more I realize I have a movie-watching deficiency. True, I'm an excruciatingly busy college student who barely has time to sleep at night.

But if everyone else is doing it, why can't I?

That in mind, I've decided to make a list of films I need to see. I once had a nice, long list. Since then, I've misplaced it. If you think of any movies you thought were fantastic and I need to watch, please post them and I'll add them to the list.

And hopefully, someday, I'll get caught up to the rest of you.

Poor, deficient Courtney's list of films to watch:
Charlotte Gray
Amazing Grace

Paradise? Eh.

Ian and I tried a new restaurant the other night for dinner: Paradise Bakery and Cafe.

It sounded promising, plus it's a newly opened restaurant, which can be exciting.

The setup was kind of confusing at first, because it's like a cafeteria line but you don't have to go through the whole line. You also have to pay for each item you get, so it's far more expensive than your traditional cafeteria--no flat rate meals. And the sweets and pastries have their own, out-of-the way counter. I was confused and put-off until one of the staff asked if we'd ever been there before and offered directions. Overall, not user-friendly for first-time visitors.

Ian tried the roast beef sandwich and I tried the vegetarian sandwich. The prices weren't bad--I think mine was about $5.70, and Ian's closer to $6 (I didn't pay). It was reasonable.

The roast beef sandwich was apparently quite good. It included a thick slab of roast beef, plus assorted vegetables that my meat-a-saurus boyfriend removed. The bread was very crusty and looked tasty.

The veggie was sub-standard. The bread was reminiscent of squishy sliced white bread from the grocery store, and the only vegetables present were half a tomato, a giant leaf of inedible lettuce and thinly sliced cucumber. There was also ONE slice of cheese and some avocado sauce. I was highly displeased. Plus the tomato kept falling out, and the bread got thinner and thinner as I held onto the sandwich. Throughout the meal I kept muttering, "Baggins is way better."

The chocolate chip cookies, on the other hand--which came with the sandwiches--were quite good. My new friend from Germany, an exchange student named Steffi, also said she really enjoyed the cookies when she ate at Paradise.

I think I'll still go back, to try the salads and soups, and more sweets. But the one sandwich I could eat was quite despicable.

Update to the Saga

So, more about my Bursar's account charges, just in case anyone's interested. This one comes with some good advice...

The reason I was charged in-state AND out-of-state tuition is because I applied to graduate school at The University of Arizona. Apparently this changed my status to that of an out-of-state student, I incurred charges for the current semester, and I had to fill out a domicile affidavit. Now I have to wait a week until I can be considered an Arizonan again. Yay. But, the good news is it had absolutely nothing to do with Prop 300. Hah.

So, if you want to apply to grad school at the UA and you're still an undergrad there, wait until the first few weeks of school have passed (if possible, based on deadlines) and THEN apply. I don't think they can charge you a few weeks into the semester. Not that they should be able to charge you for out-of-state tuition if you've already paid you're in-state tuition, but I'm not in charge, now am I?

Bureaucratic Injustices

So, as an Arizona resident who files the FAFSA dilligently every year, who receives aid from the university and who won't be continuing at The University of Arizona after spring 2008, I never would have dreamed that Proposition 300 would affect me. It never has in the past. Nobody from the university ever told me to think about it, turn anything in, do anything.

But then, I checked my Bursar's account this morning to see if the second group of fantastic textbook charges had been applied to my account so I could finally pay for them all at once--only to discover I suddenly owe $5,796.13. That's a big jump from the $96.50 I owed yesterday. I nearly had a stroke.

So I went to look at my transactions to see what the hell was so expensive.


OUT OF STATE TUITION. What?

And a second charge for in-state tuition that they kindly marked out to show I paid for it the first time--but the evidence is still there.

So I call the Bursar to see what's up. After 99 phone calls and 20 minutes of being on-hold, a friendly employee answers the phone. She is also confused about the extra charges in my account, and says all my "paperwork" is "complete." I assume that means they have proof I'm a resident (DUH!).

She directs me to the Office of Residency and Classification. After another 50 phone calls and leaving a message, I get a slightly-less friendly person on the phone. She can't figure it out either, but assumes I don't have my Prop 300 paperwork in. I told her nobody informs of this. "I know they don't, I'm sorry," she says, then directs me to visit the Registrar's office to fulfill my requirements.

So now I must trek to the Registrar's office and probably stand in line for 45 minutes JUST so I can hand someone my driver's license, bank card, concealed weapons permit and CatCard to prove that they've made a mistake.

The bureaucracy is mind boggling. The idiocy is mind blowing.

Get on the B Line

In the spirit of food, which just so happens to be one of the driving forces in my life, I decided it's time the B Line got a mention on here.

The B Line is a delightful little bistro on Fourth Avenue in Tucson. It stands out from the gritty bars and hippie shops with it's neon sign and the bar stool seating lining the windows. Inside is a somewhat-scrunched, intimate seating area on two levels.

I haven't tried many of the items on the menu, but everyone else who's ever eaten there with me has enjoyed their meals.

I always get the orecchiette pasta alla vodka--sometimes half a portion with salad, sometimes a whole plate. It comes with garlic toast and a toping of arugula (which I hate) and thickly shaven parmesan. After picking off the bitterly minty arugula (unless you enjoy the stuff), you can dive into a rich and very filling meal, totally worth 11 dollars.

There's also lemonade and root beer on tap, a good selection of beer and English sparkling water, among other things.

If that's not good enough, the rotating dessert case next to the cash register, and the non-rotating one under the register, will make your mouth water with a variety of desserts ranging from thick slabs of cake and pie to cookies and creme brulee.

If you're in the area and don't mind parking across the street (I usually take the Blackjack Pizza parking lot), it's sooooo worth it!

Squash + Pasta = Smiles

Returning to one of the pillars of this blog, we're going to talk about food today.

And not just any food. Good food.

My roommate brought home a container of butternut squash ravioli for us to try this week. I was the teeniest bit apprehensive. I love squash and I like ravioli, so the prospect of having them together was promising. It just didn't seem like something that would go well with tomato sauce.


I decided to forgo the jar of marinara sauce my roommate had purchased for the meal, and instead tossed my (very pretty--pink striped) ravioli with olive oil and a healthy dose of freshly grated parmesan.

The combination was quite delicious, and I recommend it to anyone who enjoys squash or ravioli.
My roommate said the taste combination was a bit "different" with tomato sauce, since the squash is sweeter. I highly recommend olive oil instead.

Foreign Relations

When I studied in Germany in 2006, everything was set up in advance. I had a place to stay (dormitory), it was easy to get from the airport to the dormitory (although I stayed with grandparents, but that's a different story), and I knew I would be able to get around without a car.

When my tandem partner got here in the fall semester, he had no idea where he was going to live. Luckily, a friend who'd arrived before him had made arrangements for him to get from the airport and finally found him a roommate. He soon discovered he'd need a bicycle because Tucson is too spread out and there isn't adequate public transportation. He also discovered it was difficult to get groceries, as the closest grocery store was a bike ride away.

Last week I got an e-mail from a German girl who was on her way to Tucson and, having missed orientation week, wanted to know the cheapest way to get from the airport to the hostel she hoped to stay in. Hmm. Taxi? Expensive. Bus? Probably doesn't operate after 10 pm. So I offered to pick her up. She hadn't been able to exchange money for dollars in Chicago, and there was no place to do so in Tucson. Why would there be? The hostel (only one in town, as far as I know--and the first time I've ever heard of it) doesn't offer locks for lockers.

Then, I went to help her find a place to live, since she had no idea where she was going to stay with a few days before school starts. Apartment offices? Supposed to be open on Sunday, but all miraculously closed. The UA International Affairs office had told her it was super easy to find housing in Tucson. Hmm, not by my experience.

Does the university actually think lying to poor foreign students makes getting used to a strange place any easier? If they do, they're assholes. If I'd had to find a place to stay in Leipzig, I'd have been a writhing ball of nerves--a wreck. And they expect people to do it here like it's a piece of cake.

Therefore, I have decided (with a bit of prodding from my mother) to make the German Club more active in helping German, Austrian and Swiss (and maybe even those from Lichtenstein, should they come) students have an easier time of getting into Tucson and adjusting to life here. I mean, we can't just leave them homeless and (depending on the season) sweaty, wandering the streets of Tucson.

Lessons Learned

Here's one for the wise:

NEVER SCREW UP YOUR BODY'S SLEEP CLOCK!!!

I happened to do so over the course of my winter break from school and am now suffering from it. By going to bed around 2 a.m. and waking up around 1:30 p.m. on a daily basis, this schedule became ingrained in my body's daily functions and it's wreaking havoc on me as I try to readjust to work life and get ready for school to start again (think laying in bed for hours, hoping to fall asleep, and then being unable to drag yourself out of bed on time).

A discussion with my friends last night also pondered the issue of sleep. Do humans really need eight hours of sleep a night to function properly? Do we need more or less? I think the answer depends on the person. While some of my friends think four hours is adequate, I think I need eight to 10 hours a night to function 100 percent. The chances of me getting that much sleep, though...eh.

The most important lesson to be learned is that sleep isn't something we can throw to the wind with caution and whatnot. Getting enough sleep, and going to bed at decent hours, respects the body. And that's pretty damn important.

Drainage? Naw.

I don't know what it is, but there's something about rain that I adore. Perhaps it's because I've grown up in the desert and we hardly ever get enough rain. And I don't believe there is such a thing as too much rain.

But there is such a thing as too much rain for the drainage capacity in Tucson.

Actually I'm not even sure if there is any drainage system in place in Tucson. Whenever it rains semi-hard, the streets flood with water, making it impossible to walk anywhere without become soaked to mid-calf. See this YouTube video that my boyfriend, Ian, posted during summer 2007 as an example.

A mere example of this:

Tonight my friends and I walked to Chipotle for dinner. It was lightly sprinkling when we left. On our way home, it was raining lightly but steadily. Eh, no big deal.

Then we needed to cross the street. But there was about five feet of rushing water in our way. So I waded through, soaking my shoes and pants to above my ankles. With cold water on a cold night.

Ian jumped across, thanks to his long legs. Sam attempted to carry Colleen across so her suede shoes wouldn't get ruined. But halfway across, her cell phone and wallet fell out of her pocket and went rushing away.

Right then, our friend Mike drove up, 30 seconds too late. So as I stood guarding Colleen's shoes with my umbrella, my friends waded through the mini-river, searching for the lost items. The wallet (the more important item) was recovered, but the cell phone was gone. It probably wouldn't work anymore, anyway.

Clearly there's a problem when people can't cross the street on a university campus without forever loosing their belongings to fast-moving water. Other problems include the people who drive through flooded areas during monsoon season and get washed away (although that may have more to do with the average IQ of Arizona's population than drainage issues).

How is it possible, in an area that expects heavy rains for at least 35 days a year, that we don't have adequate drainage in place to move the water away from foot and vehicular traffic?

It boggles the mind.

Happy New Year

So...2008 is upon us and there's no going back.


With that in mind, thousands of Americans are starting in on their New Year's Resolutions.

I have come to believe that I slightly detest these resolutions. They fizzle out around January 8, maybe a little later depending on the resolver's personal resolve. They're usually related to a) weight loss, b) finances or c) organization. And they usually always fail.

I don't make New Year's Resolutions. I don't think I have for several years. But this year, I have decided to set GOALS for 2008. My goals will be easier to achieve, and they aren't going to be something I forget in a few weeks because the New Year hoopla is over.

My goals will relate to health and financial stability, not to losing weight and saving $100,000 by December. I am making my goals purposefully broad, and things that I think about often. I think goals for 2008 are going to be far more attainable than crummy resolutions. And I'll let you know how it goes in about 364 days.

I Don't Wanna Grow Up

What's wrong with playing video games past the age of 18?

Well, from my point of view, a lot of things. When it comes to some college boys I know, video games have taken a huge chunk of their homework time and money--i.e. games have gone down the toilet and video games and consoles were purchased before birthday, Christmas and Valentine's day presents for certain girlfriends. There are also a slew of hyper-sexualized avatars and characters that boys can choose from to play with and fantasize about while they're away from their girlfriends. Come on, Lara Croft? What does a video game character need boobs that big for? It's just ridiculous. And the other day my boyfriend asked what I thought of sex scenes in video games. WHAT THE HELL FOR?


Yet, there is something about playing a good Nintendo game that really hits the spot. I've always enjoyed my NES--the original Nintendo console. I still have the one my parents bought in the 80s, and the Super Nintendo I got for Christmas back in the day. My mom still has our original, fat Game Boy somewhere, too.

Nobody in my family had purchased a new game system since the Super Nintendo. And then, my boyfriend bought me a Nintendo DS. I had played with his mother's DS during a spring break in Mexico, and really enjoyed hours of Big Brain Academy. Ian got me that same game AND Pokemon diamond. Now, it may sound nerdy, but I'm a big fan of Pokemon. I had the Game Boy yellow version of the game, and I played it a lot on my Super Nintendo at the end of my third semester in college. And the diamond version is just as addicting.

Soon after I got the DS, my mom got a Nintendo Advance for her and my dad. They don't play them often, but they enjoy them just the same. They're thinking about getting a Wii for the exercise now, too. Can you tell we're a Nintendo family?

For me, video games are not about the violence, the adrenaline or, as I was just debating with Ian a week ago, the "plot line." Sure, Pokemon may have a plot line. But I don't pay attention. All I care about is powering up my Pokemon so I have the biggest, fastest, strongest, rarest Pokemon. Who the cares about the plot line when you've got a level 16 Budew and you're getting ready to fight a trainer with level 25 Pokemon? Power up, baby!

Maybe that's the difference between the casual user who only gets to play these games during winter, spring and summer breaks and the boys who get addicted to one game after another, year 'round. If you ask me, video games are OK for relaxing--not for casual addictions.

Time Wasters

Yeah, I'm a procrastinator. But I'm in college--it's part of the job description, right?

Well, to commemorate the fact that I'm one semester away from ending my four-year tenure at The University of Arizona, I've compiled a short list of my favorite time wasters. The list is short because I spend so much time at each of them I don't have time to look for new ones!

The Facebook. Spare me the communications-world and blogosphere hoopla. Facebook really is all that. I've been on the social networking site since the fall of 2004. I've been an addict ever since. At first, I let the identity-theft skeptic in me keep a distance from the site, but since then I've been a several-hours-at-a-time user. Even after the site opened up to everyone, and even with the commercialization. I think it's a great tool for keeping in touch, a great tool for hanging on to contacts, and a great way for organizations and politicians to do community outreach. In relation to MySpace, I have found that Facebook is far more user-friendly and communication-facilitating.

FirstView. So, the site's not 100 percent free for all users, but for the runway-fashion fiend, it's a nice tool. You can search by designer or country to check out past and current lines from the runways. It's also an easy way to figure out the tangents of fashion and different designers, and help you educate yourself about what designer you really like best. I've been using it, believe it or not, since I was in middle school. I found it randomly and have loved it ever since.

The New York Times. Okay, so this only works if you want to know what's going on in the world. But the Times is one of the last good papers, and that great content is online. I suggest you find out what's going on--pay close attention to Pakistan. Benazir Bhutto was assassinated today.

My Story Is Makeover. Much as I hate watching Lifetime movies, or even the commercials on that channel, I have found a guilty pleasure on the Lifetime TV Web site. This dandy makeover tool gives you a daily task--you're going to the movies, or something like that--and you have to dress your "paper doll" for that outing. It's shallow, superficial and for fashion lovers only. My mom groaned when I showed it to her, and she's my "What Not to Wear" watching buddy. Not for everyone, but for those who can get into it, a fabulous waste of time.

Projekt Gutenberg. For those who read in German and appreciate literature, this site is a great way to pass the day. You can find authors and read full text versions of various writings. For example, I found Germany's brightest star, Johann Wolfgang von Goethe. You can read all of his works, and some of them even have a version you can listen to or purchase in the mp3 shop. It's a great way to get your daily literature boost.

Songza. It's easy, simple and horizon-expanding. This site plays music clips for free. You can't buy them, but it will save your play list for several days. You can also find music you'd never have found on the Billboard Top 40. I searched for "French rap" and found Neg Marrons, a French reggae group whose song "Le Bilan" I particularly like. I searched for "Czech music" and found Tarafuki, the first contemporary Czech group I've been able to find on the Internet.

Good luck and happy time-wasting. :-)

All the Hullabaloo

For the second year in a row, I ventured out on December 26 for all those goody "post-Christmas" sales.

All I remember of last year's adventure was that I shoved my way through crowded aisles in Target, shoving the last few good items into my basket as other shoppers tried to get to them first. I bought a lot of gift bags and bows.

This year, we got to the store much later than last year, and were surprised to see the selection of clearance goods was still pretty good. However, the clearance wasn't that great--50 percent? Come on, 75 percent would be more appropriate for a holiday that's not coming again for a year.

Again, lots of wrapping paper, ribbons, bows and Christmas paraphernalia went into the basket. There were a few good buys, but nothing spectacular. Target, TJMaxx, World Market--eh, eh, eh. Borders had the best deals by far, and those weren't even the holiday items!

Why do we go out en masse to buy clearance goods after a holiday? Because the commercials tell us the sales will be good? It's just the after-effect of Christmasumerism, if you ask me. We buy and buy and buy. And then, after all the presents have been unwrapped, it's still not enough to hold us over. The spend-lust is too great.

And the sickest part? Valentine's Day displays are already up. What a great nation this is.

Growing up, take 2

I did it again. No, I didn't cut open my finger or splurge on "hurty shoes."

I failed to use common sense in an adult-like way, in an easily solvable adult-like situation. No, not like in adult movies.

I was baking a pumpkin today--yes, an entire pumpkin, left over from Halloween. I foresee a great amount of pumpkin bread, pumpkin cookies and maybe some pumpkin soup in the future. But getting to the point where those recipes may be possible was...interesting.

I cook squash in the oven all the time. It's not that hard. Cut it in half, scoop out the seeds, place it on foil, bake until you can easily poke it with a fork.

Well, I did the usual today. Only maybe the oven was a bit too hot. Okay, it was too hot. After 40 minutes of listening to the pumpkin crackle and sizzle in the oven, I opened the door to check on it. I was confronted with mottled looking orange gourd halves and the scent of burning pumpkin skin.

I turned on the fan over the oven to absorb the smoke coming out, turned off the oven and went looking for oven mitts. Then it all began.
The smoke alarm by Alycia's room starts going off. I freak out, but run over, grab a chair to climb on and start waving the oven mitts at the alarm, hoping they'll move the smoke away and the alarm will turn off. Then the other smoke alarm starts going off, the one by my room. So there are now two alarms screeching at me in unison from completely different sides of the house.

So I call my dad.

He tells me to take out the batteries. But these are plugged into the wall. There are no batteries.

He tells me to flip the breaker. I'm too excited at that point to read which breaker goes to what part of the house, so I turn them all off, a few at a time. The alarms continue to wail.

As my dad thinks of a new way to approach the situation, the house alarm starts going off. Three loud alarms shrieking at me.

We decide it's a good idea to turn all the breakers off. I stand in near-dark silence. All of the alarms have shut up, thank goodness.

As the front door lets in freezing air and lets out the pumpkin smoke, my dad and I discuss the coming situation: the house alarm.

You see, this is not a user-friendly alarm. It once went off while Alycia and I were blow drying our hair at the same time. Another time it went off randomly at 6 a.m. I know that the second I flip the breaker connected to that damn thing, it's going to go off again.

My dad goes through several ideas he has for keeping it from going off. Nope, tried that before. Nope, that won't work.

I turn the breakers on again. For a brief period, silence. Then, BEEP BEEP BEEP EEK EEK EEK BEEEEEEEEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP EEK EEK EEK BEEEEEEEEP.

My dad asks me to read the buttons on the alarm panel to him. I have to go out front to yell them into the phone because the alarm is so loud by the door. Then, my neighbor comes over. In a matter of seconds, he presses the right button and the sound STOPS.

Gee, who would have guessed you have to tell it you're HOME?

If I'd gotten a chance to tell my dad the names of the buttons, he'd have told me to press that one. But did it ever occur to me on my own? Nope.

More reasons to believe those in their 20s are not yet grown-up enough to handle difficult situations.

*Sigh*

Step on this

Everyone has a fetish of sorts. I'm not talking about kinky bedroom fetishes. I mean something you have a sort of obsession with (non-sexually). Mine is, has been and probably always will be... shoes. That's why I keep sprinkling this blog with pictures of what I deem to be the best and worst shoes. And I'm going to keep doing it, dammit. (These are good ones, by the way.)

Hugo Boss

Cole Haan












Fitzwell Piri











Stuart Weitzman












Stuart Weitzman

The Party Spirit

This is the partying-est week of my entire year. Really.

By that, I mean I'm hosting two parties this weekend and attending two next weekend. No, not crazy typical-college-student parties. A work party tonight (fondue), a German club party tomorrow (Feuerzangenbowle), and two Christmas parties next weekend--one of them a City of Willcox party I'm attending with my dad.

In light of all the merry-making and stress to have a perfect setup, I've come up with my idea of what the perfect hostess should be/have/do.

1. Enough to drink, and not just alcohol. Rule: have two kinds of beer (one light, one dark), a variety of wine (chilled white, room temp red, sparkling, etc.), milk water and orange juice, ice, hard liquor for cocktails (but pick one or two that you're willing to serve--your home is probably not a bar), coffee, tea in various varieties, and, if it's a seasonal party, egg nog of some variety.
2. Even if others are bringing food, make sure you have at least two "meal-type" items and several "dessert-type" items.
3. Fondue is ALWAYS an easy appetizer, entree and dessert option. Note: cheese, chocolate and oil fondues all have their own type of pot. You can't cook all three kinds in ceramic. Be prepared for what you're planning to make.
4. Clean your home first--extra clean. Scrub the bathroom (NOBODY wants to use a disgusting-looking toilet. Think hotel clean--but cleaner). Vaccuum, tidy up. Make it look nice.
5. A festive-looking centerpiece or flowers are always nice. I picked up a small evergreen centerpiece from Trader Joe's for $6--fragrant, festive and nice to look at.
6. Invite more people than you expect to show up. Otherwise, you'll invite 10 people and end up with four guests.
7. Have a backup plan for silence or boredom: a few board games (Trivial Pursuit always gets people going), Scattergories, Pictionary, etc., a movie (think about your audience before picking one up--no chick flicks for your work party if there are lots of men coming), or a "Would you rather" book. There are lots of options.
8. Dress the part. Even if you're getting together with old friends, it helps to make yourself look nice. Throw on dark jeans, an ironed shirt and do your hair.
9. Pester your guests without being a pest. Make sure everyone has something to drink (who wants something to drink), and check in every so often to make sure nobody's dying of thirst. Make sure your guests have eaten enough, are comfortable with the temperature or chairs, etc.
10. Don't stress. It's super easy to get all worked up. But hey, I didn't get home from the grocery store today until 30 minutes before my party was supposed to start. My hair was a mess, I was in cruddy clothes, and I hadn't cleaned the bathroom. But I didn't go bonkers. I was calm and collected, and I got everything together.
11. Demand your guests RSVP. It seems old fashioned, but it helps. It sucks to end up with a surplus of food the next day, especially if you're sick from eating too much of it the night before.
12. Allow your guests to help you clean up a little afterwards, but not too much. You're being the host/hostess, and it's your place. So you get to do the bulk of the work--and that's fair.

More Stacey London? Yay!

Quite frankly, I have few idols in the fashion world. People I admire, yes, and people who I feel may or may not be geniuses. But idols? That's a rare one for me. The only one I can think of, other than Coco Chanel, is Stacey London.

If you don't know who she is, that's OK. She's the star of TLC's "What Not To Wear", a makeover show that teaches people how to dress properly for their shape--no matter what size or shape they are. Like me, London was a Phi Beta Kappa German studies major in college. She also worked in magazines. She's of course got better credentials, as I haven't graduated yet and she's got experience on numerous fashion magazine's editorial staffs. But you see the appeal for me, I'm sure.

She had a talk show in the spring, the name of which I can't remember. It seemed like a good thing to me, but I never got a chance to watch it because we don't get TLC on our free basic cable (schade!).

Now, she appears to have revamped the show and renamed it "Fashionably Late with Stacey London." I watched the first airing on Thanksgiving weekend and enjoyed the show. You can watch some clips on YouTube.

During the Nov. 23 episode, London visited a makeup factory, talked with former model Rebecca Romijn-Stamos and gave away lots of presents to audience members. It seemed very similar to the spring show. I found it quite enjoyable from my parents' couch, but found this anecdote from an audience member very interesting.

If my roommate and I were privy to TLC airwaves, I'm sure we'd be spending Friday evening on the couch with a cup of hot chocolate, watching the show. If you get the channel, you should do it for us.

Christmasumerism

That's right--Christmasumerism. This catchy phrase just burst into my brain a few minutes ago. I'm sitting at my desk at work, listening to "classic" Christmas music--choirs, symphonies, etc., taking on Christmas carols (my current favorites are the Medieval and Renaissance carols). I have to keep turning up the volume on my pitiful computer speakers, higher and higher, to compete with the students who populate the cubicles surrounding me.

Not only do these people practically shout at one another as they talk, but they have contemporary Christmas music blaring. That's right, the Bee Gees and Nick Lachey singing your favorite Christmas hits--one butchered tune at a time.

There's nothing wrong with contemporary Christmas music, don't get me wrong. It just reminds me of that catchy term...what was it again? Oh, yeah. CHRISTMASUMERISM.

Definition (if I were publishing my own dictionary): Christmas as celebrated in the United States of America in the 21st Century. The act of excessive spending surrounding the Christian winter holiday. Using Christmas as a profit machine.

Hmmm.

Duh. I hear people talking about this concept all the time, about the "commercialization of Christmas," as Charlie Brown put it. I'm not so bothered by the fact that the holiday has strayed so far from it's religious meaning. If we really want to return Christmas to its original habitat, then we need to go into the woods with a bonfire and have an orgy, to celebrate the Winter Solstice on December 21.

No, here are the real reasons the winter spend-a-thon that bothers me. (Yes, yes, we live in a high capitalist society. Some believe the U.S. would not-so-spontaneously combust if people stopped running up their credit card bills.)

• It's nice to receive gifts you like. It's great to see someone's face when they unwrap a gift they love. But the increased amount of acceptable consumerism surrounding each Christmas makes it difficult to compete with the last one. Say I bought you a Christmas present last year for $150. It was super nice--a digital camera, say. This year, I don't have as much money because I bought everyone nice presents last Christmas and had to spend the last 11 months catching up, reimbursing my savings account. So I only have $50 to buy you a nice present. What the hell can I buy you with $50 that's going to be nicer than a digital camera? Although they say, "it's the thought that counts," once you get a standard of expectation going, it's hard not to look like a cheap-ass if you can't keep up with the standard in future years.
• Religious dominance in a country founded on religious tolerance. I've been hyper-sensitive to this idea ever since I dated a Jewish kid in high school. Although children from religions other than Christianity grow up surrounded by the Christmas hullabaloo and understanding that they're not getting presents on Christmas like half their peers, I just wish those getting presents didn't have to rub it in their faces. Why do we call it "Christmas Break", anyway? (And let's not get me started on those people calling this "a Christian nation".) Not everyone is celebrating Christmas. I'm glad a lot of organizations are stepping up and calling it "Winter Break" and "Holiday Party", because those terms are non-denominational--just like winter should be. I'm also happy to see the Chanukah displays in a lot of stores becoming larger and more prominent. It's not the most important holiday in the Jewish religion, so it doesn't need to be a massive thing--but then again, Christmas is also not the most important holiday in the Christian religion...so why does Christmas need to be a massive thing? Point being: give equal play to holidays from different faiths.
  
• Christmasumerism = excessive spending = credit card debt = not enough money for your children to go to college, and if you're middle class with whopping credit card debt, your kids are screwed becuase FAFSA doesn't care how much debt you have and the kids are getting zilch because--ha, your expected family contribution to their education this year is x-thousand dollars.

There are plenty more reasons to loathe Christmasumerism or anything that reminds you of it. I think the three above pretty much take the (fruit)cake, though.

Time Management: OVERLOAD!

So, I've done it again: I left the blogosphere for an extended, unannounced, unwarranted hiatus. Of course, there's a good reason for this (there's always a good excuse for everything, as far as I'm concerned).

It's called TIME MANAGEMENT. We hear this phraselet often, especially in college. "Blah blah blah, procrastination, blah blah blah, good time management skills." Somewhere in all the how-to-be-a-productive-member-of-society mumbo jumbo, there really is important information that must of us don't bother to hear...or it doesn't make it through our thick, procrastination-armored skulls.

So, to make light of the very reason I have not put fingers to keyboard in months, I will provide these tips, as they work for me when I have not cast them aside to eat a snack instead of writing the paper that's due tomorrow.

How to MANAGE time (is that possible? yes!):

• Calendars. Lots of them. A good online calendar you can take everywhere you have Internet access is Google calendar. It really is useful. You can color-code events, set reminders for yourself, and share your calendar with the important people in your life. You can even add public calendars to your own (ex.: The University of Arizona academic calendar, the Tucson Jazz Society calendar of events, etc.) so you know what's going on when, and if you have any conflicts.
• Post-Its. I swear by them. They come in a bazillion colors and sizes and shapes, they're sticky, and they're disposable. What more could you ask for? Sometimes, when I get busy, hundreds of them will pop up, stuck all over my desk, bathroom and computer at work. But they work--because you look at them and think, "oh, yeah. I need to do that."
• Lists. It sounds anal to write lots of lists, but lists can be very potent little reminders. There's nothing more sobering than sitting down to write a list titled "To Do This Weekend" and finding that you need to turn over the 26-lined sheet of paper to continue the list. Eeee. But once you have everything written down, you can take a big, bold Sharpie and strike out each item on the list as you finish it. You can even rank each item's importance, so you know what to get done first. And you can make multiple lists--grocery list, work list, items due list, gift list, etc. Ahh, the organization.
  
• PDA. No, not public display of affection. Get a Palm Pilot, Blackberry or something of comparable stature. Even better if you can have Internet access with it, like on an iPhone. Taking your calendar, to-do list, contacts' information and a budget calculator everywhere can save you a lot of stress, extra trips to the grocery store and missed appointments. I set my PDA's alarm really loud, so it's obnoxious and I HAVE to pay attention to it to make it shut up. And it reminds me of what I need to be doing, every time.
• Alarms. So you already have a PDA/Blackberry/iPhone alarm blaring at you, and reminders on your computer. For someone like me, that's not usually enough. I have three other alarms in my bedroom to get me moving in the morning. Sometimes four or five alarms isn't even enough, especially in the dead of winter. The important thing is to place your alarms as far away from you as possible, so you have to get up to turn them off. Hopefully, you get distracted along the way and don't think about going back to bed or the TV or whatever it was you were doing before.
  
• Selbstmotivation. It's German, but it's easy to get: self motivation. I know, this is always the hard one. But after a few nights with only 1.5 hours of sleep, you're bound to get the point. And if you don't, you're like me and you're a masochist. So stop it! Take the damn bull by the horns and get to work, already!
  

Re-dic-u-lous!

So, an article in the New York Times this morning explained a new phenomenon in car paint jobs: preserving them by having your car wrapped with advertisements.

Sure, $500 to $800 a month sounds great, but I can't believe anyone would want to be a moving advertisement for any company.

You don't just have your car wrapped with the advertisement--you also have to abide by a code of conduct, limit where you shop and answer questions from people who see you in your advertisement-mobile.

The article also mentioned that advertisers see car-wrapping as a way to get within the confines of a target audience's social circle--to gain acceptance from the group you want to buy your product because so-and-so has it plastered all over his or her car.

I think such a blatant show of "buyer-loyalty" (if you can call it that in this society of money-grubbers) would turn me off to wanting to talk to that person. But, again, maybe that's just because I hate commercial advertising campaigns, advertisers who use normal people to do the work for them, and people who are big enough to suckers to do the work for those advertisers.

It stinks to me of an answer to the problems advertisers are encountering with social media. Rather than enter the network online and allow millions of MySpace and Facebook users access to the company's soft underbelly--**gasp! potentially leaving nasty criticism or sarcasm on the site/profile/comments area**--just make it so they can't help but gawk at the Tide detergent advertisement-encrusted Hummer or PT Cruiser driving down the street.

Maybe I'm just very anti-advertising in general, and that I have learned to ignore all visual and aural forms of advertisement, but this sounds like one of the most idiotic things I've heard of Americans doing yet. Can they top it? I'm sure they can. I just can't believe it's come to this level of advertising idiocy/desperation already.

Foot Notes

Shoes are a wonderful thing for many women.

I love shoes. I own 60 pairs, approximately 2/3 of which possess a daringly high heel (I tend to be more apt to fall or trip in flat shoes, ironically). Everytime I go into a store that sells nice, leather shoes, I am doomed to forfeit a paycheck.

I just can't help myself.

My boyfriend is always going on about how 2/3 of my shoes are bad for me and he doesn't want me wearing "hurty" shoes.

As I said, I just can't help myself.

And I just keep giving him more reasons to shake his head each time I buy a new pair of shoes!

Wednesday, first week of classes at UA. I'm teaching a class at 11 a.m. So I get to school around 10 a.m. to find a good, close parking spot. I'm wearing new shoes, after all.

I drive, and drive, and drive...and drive. No spots. Nada, nichts.

I end up in a parking lot on the North side of Speedway, very far away from my classroom. And the nearest purple CatTran pickup.

Curses.

So, I hoof it over there, 15 minutes before class time.

I'm feeling good, these shoes don't hurt so bad.

By the time I get to the classroom, I'm schwitzing like crazy. Damn Arizona sun (+ dry heat + humidity), I hate you!

I go to the bathroom to blot the sweat from my face (gross, I know, but we have to do that here if we want to look presentable). Ouch. I realize my feet sort of hurt. Grrrr.

I get through class, just fine, and have to walk to the CatTran stop to get to work. That doesn't feel so good.

From work, back to the university for harp master class. Feet feeling worse.

And from there, I have to walk back to that crappy parking lot. And my feet are ready to fall off.

OK, so I can deal with blisters. I get them all the time. I got a blood blister the size of Godzilla over the summer from wandering around campus in platform sandals.

Oh, no. Can't escape this one alive. We're talking lacerations on the sides of my feet like I was whipped by a mouse.

For what?

I JUST WANTED TO LOOK NICE!

Why do shoes have to be so unbearable the first 15 times you wear them? I mean, it's great when you get to that point when you can't remember why you ever hesitated in wearing them. But having to build your feet up to that point? It takes a ton of sacrifice--sacrifice in getting exercise by walking to and from classes or work, sacrifice in not being able to wear other nice shoes for a week if you get blisters/lacerations/some other form of foot-bound torture.

I know what you're thinking, and it's not true. I'm not wearing shoes that are too small or too large. I take great pains to find the correct shoes for my foot size and arch. Maybe it's the leather, I don't know. I'm just cursed.

This is why they say "beauty is pain."

Eggcellent, my dear!

It seems every month brings some new development in how many Americans view the food they consume. I don't think Americans are going to realize en masse any time soon that corn syrup, preservatives, added salt and added sugar are making them the world's fattest people, but at least they can begin to look less like the faster-food-at-any-cost lazybones the rest of the world sees them as.

This time the topic is eggs. I'm not going to go on a rant a la PETA about the cruel conditions many commercial chickens are forced to endure. Those who really care will find out on their own.

A New York Times article this morning discussed more and more big food companies switching from using eggs produced in chicken farms that use cages, to those from "cageless" chicken farms. Now, that definitely does not mean they are using eggs from chickens who frolic about outside. These are probably still chickens who will never see the light of day except when someone opens the door to enter or leave the egg-laying area. What is so important about this move, is the acknowledgment by larger chains that many Americans want to be healthy, thus wanting healthier food.

OK, an egg is an egg is an egg. But was the chicken who popped that egg out particularly healthy? It may or may not matter. The article said chefs like Wolfgang Puck have decided cageless eggs are higher quality, although there isn't any concrete proof they taste better.

Many farm activists think cageless farms are just as bad, if not worse than, as farms that use cages, or batteries. According to farm owners cited in the article, "...keeping thousands of hens in tight quarters on the floor of a building can lead to hunger, disease and cannibalism. They also say that converting requires time, money and faith that the spike in demand is not just a fad." Well, it's up to the American public to demand more and let the farmers know it's not just a fad, isn't it? And isn't it up to the farmers to ensure the quarters aren't cramped, the chickens are being fed and they're healthy?

I can see how there would definitely be a downside to letting a thousand chickens mill around in a barn together. The photo on the first page of the article showed a pretty cramped situation.

If you ask me, it looks far better than rows upon rows of chickens shoved into laptop-sized cages. At least outside of the cages they can move around, socialize and flap their wings a bit, and not have to sit in their own waste.

I'm all for free range eggs, and many of my friends also are. I think it's interesting that, according to the article, many universities have jumped on board in choosing eggs from cageless suppliers. College students, much like a growing population of today's high school students, want to eat more nutritious, better foods. Many of them also want food from humanely-treated animals. If this is what our younger generations of consumers are asking for, then perhaps it's time for a change in the way the food industry is run.

True, it may be expensive to make the switch from battery cages to cageless, or to have someone oversee the chickens to make sure they're not pecking each other to death. But if the conditions are good and the birds are well-fed, then they shouldn't be killing each other anyway. And if there are more farms producing these eggs, that should drive the price down from its current height at about $0.60 more than cage-farm produced eggs, and cageless eggs will just become the norm.

It's a slight ripple of change in a big industry--something to be aware of, in the very least. Who knows what food-producers will turn to next.

That's-a pizza pie!

Getting free stuff is always nice. Imagine my pleasure when I got a letter in the mail one day shortly after moving into my new apartment and discovered it included a gift certificate for a free large pizza at Rocco's Little Chicago, a pizza joint here in Tucson.



After a few weeks of sitting on the free booty, we called a quorum of friends and went to try it out.

The service wasn't particularly fantastic. The waiter seemed flustered and forgot to return with a lemonade refill for someone at our table. One of the regulars at our table said you have to get "the blonde" waitress, who is apparently very attentive and helpful.

We ordered a couple of appetizers, some beers and sodas, and two large, deepdish cheese pizzas.

The beer list changes every week, but we tried a Bitburger, Summer Solstice and Heileman's Old Style. I always enjoy a Bitburger, and this one wasn't bad. The person who got the Summer Solstice was trying to learn how to appreciate beer, and she ended up switching with the more experienced beer drinker who got the Old Style. I thought they both tasted like water, but everyone's beer taste buds differ.

The appetizers weren't bad. I tried the mozarella sticks, which were delicious and hit the spot after an evening of hunger. They weren't sensational, although I can't say I'd had mozarella sticks for a long time before trying them. From what I heard around the table, the medium hot wings were very tasty but a bit too spicy and the ranch dressing was delicious, and the BBQ sticks were fantastic.

The pizzas were monstrous: two-and-a-half inches of Chicago-style (sauce on top of the cheese) bliss. Very yummy, and worth the long-ish wait. They were quite filling, and at a table of five guys and three girls, we still ended up having two big pieces left over.

We didn't have time to sample from the dessert menu, which included cheesecake and giant cookies. Next time.

As for price: the free-pizza coupon helped a lot. Our original bill came to $72 (that's without the 15% gratuity mandatory for parties of six or more), and after the free pizza came off, it was $50 even (including tax and tip). A bit pricey for some college students, but manageable in a large group.

All in all, the meal was delicious and worth trying again.

Ick. Gag. Yuck. Pwuh.

Seven of the ugliest pairs of shoes ever created by man.

Summer Fashion

Every year, magazines like Vogue, Elle and Cosmopolitan come out with an issue devoted entirely to ideal summer clothing. The selections usually look good. They just don't work out so well in real-time as they do in theory.

At least, that's how it goes when you live in the Southwest. It's hot here. And dry. And in July and August, it's hot, dry and muggy all at once. Temperatures range from 80 to 120 degrees, and yet we're supposed to run around in espadrilles and long, flowing dresses looking cool and crisp.

Yes, flowing dresses in light materials ARE ideal for being outside in the hot Southwest. But what about when you go inside, and the temperature is 12 degrees Fahrenheit?

Unfortunately, Arizona is a place where it must be 75 degrees cooler inside than it is outside at all times from March through October. This does not compute well when added into the equation of summer fashions produced by women's magazines.After all, the long, flowing dress and matching espadrilles are going to look dowdy once you go inside and put on a hoodie and wrap a blanket around yourself so you don't freeze to death (yes, people in my office DO take jackets and blankets with them to work).

Perhaps fashion trends would be better set if magazines were produced in the hottest climates, rather than in cooler places like the Pacific Northwest or Northeastern U.S. True, it's humid there, but they don't use air conditioning like we do. Oh, no siree.

Emergency Response Mechanism

So I just turned 21 this May. That's a number signifying adulthood and maturity in the U.S. if ever there was one.

We tend to believe that and buy into how adult being 21 is, especially since you can get drunk legally in the U.S. at that point (which isn't that big a deal if you're say, German, or go abroad often).

But sometimes believing you're mature isn't enough to make you feel like an adult. Here's a case study that best exemplifies what I'm saying:

It's the first day of Summer Session II classes. I just got my car back from the shop after two weeks of having no window on one side and having to live at my boyfriend's house because I live too far from the university to walk. I'm in a fairly good mood, making my lunch and dinner to take to work/school the next day.

Then there's that damn piece of bread. A beautiful, delicious, golden, mini-sourdough loaf I'm trying to split open to stuff with butter and divine brie. And it's gotten hard over the weekend. So I get out the BIG bread knife. The new one. The sharp one.

It won't cut the bread. I try every angle. The knife will not go in. So, in a flurry of brilliance, I slam the knife point onto the rounded edge of the bread, thinking "WHY WON'T YOU GO IN???"

Slice.

No, not the bread. I got the top of my finger.


"Eh," I think. "I get myself with knives all the time and never bleed. No big deal."

Blood starts coming out.

"Eh," I think. "Merely a flesh wound."

I rinse it out. More blood...let's make that LOTS more blood.

The little red light in my brain clicks on and I suddenly tear across the apartment to my bathroom, grab a Kleenex and wrap it around the gushing finger. Thoughts of "what do I do next?" swirl inside my skull as the wound begins to pulsate with pain.

So what do I do? I run to my desk, and, still holding the kleenex tightly onto my finger, I wrestle my cell phone open and call my parents. Who live in Willcox. That's 70 miles away at a good 80 mph.

My mom answers the phone, and the floodgates let loose. "I CUT MY FINGER! WHAT DO I DO?"

Pause. "Um, did you wash it out?" "YES!" "Did you wrap a towel around it?" "I'M USING A KLEENEX!" "Why aren't you using a towel?" "I'LL GET BLOOD ALL OVER IT!!!" "Okay..."

The conversation progresses as such until my mother wakes my father, who gets his own dose of tearful wailing about the bloody finger and how I've gone through three Kleenexes and it hurts so bad. So my dad calls my boyfriend, who lives a mere five minutes away. What happens when he arrives? Calm, cool logic wrestles with emotional blubbering for two minutes and then wants to know why on earth I called my parents. That's a really good question.

And if that scene isn't bad enough, I struggled when Ian tried to clean out the cut (I abhor medical cleansing pads and Peroxide), and again a week later when my dad was changing the dressings Campus Health had put on my finger--I wouldn't let him get close enough with nail scissors to snip off the back of the medical tape.

There are plenty of situations where I embody that cool, logical 21-year-old I like to think I am. But apparently, that logic has a melting point, and mine just happens to be blood. The moral of the story? I'll let you know when I find out. In the meantime I'm too busy oohing and ahhing over my finger's healing progress to figure out what it means to be this old and still go crying to mommy and daddy when something goes wrong.

I mean, wouldn't the adult thing to do have been to dress the wound myself? Or call Ian before calling my mother?

Maybe 21 years just isn't long enough to be that kind of mature.

A new beginning

It's been a long time since the last fashion post on this blog. Since then, I've done some thinking...and I decided to take a new direction here. Rather than having a blog about fashion, a blog about food, and a blog about random things that catch my attention, why not just have one blog for all three?

So, into the future then, in hopes of many more blog posts in one place than previously.

Words of Support

Bras. They come in a multitude of colors, styles, sizes and materials.

Yet, sadly, most women walk around with a floppy sack of material supporting their assets. Why? Because the grand majority of women don't have the slightest clue about finding a properly-fitting bra.

It's true, bra-fitting wisdom isn't something females are born with, and not everyone is bright enough to realize what they really look like in the mirror.

I concocted a list of tips for finding the right bra, although every woman should really visit a bra specialist--not someone in the department store bra section or Victoria's Secret--someone who has been working with bras for a very long time and specializes in them.



1. As with all clothing, don't obsess about the size tag. Every brand fits differently, and many styles within each brand may also fit differently. The key is to try on as many styles and brands as possible to find the correct one.

2. Pull on the straps. If they are very stretchy, they won't lend to good support. Even if you have small breasts, you still want support--or you'll really be needing it when you're older.

3. Push on the cups with your thumb to see how stretchy they are. As with the straps, the stretchier the material in the cups, the less support you'll be getting. Another thing about stretchy cups, is they won't give you as nice a shape as something a little firmer might.

4. When trying on a bra, the band should sit comfortably in the middle of your back. If it hikes up, the bra is too small. If it slides down, the bra is too big.

5. Adjust the straps properly when trying on a bra. The only way to gauge if it really fits is to try it on like you're getting ready to wear it.

6. Beware fancy fabrics. A super-lacy bra may look pretty with nothing atop it, but the lace will definitely show through once you put on a shirt.

7. Padding is nice in bras, depending on what size you are. Women wearing a C-cup or larger really should NOT have padding in their bras.

8. Larger women should opt for minimizer bras that shape the breasts, support them and pull them up.

9. Severely molded cups are nice, but not always. Check the shape in the mirror (from the front and side) to be sure you don't have torpedoes or round balls sitting on your chest.

10. ALWAYS wear a bra. I don't care who you are, what you think your breasts are like, or what the outfit you're wearing is. There is no excuse not to wear a bra. Other women can tell you're not wearing one. Some men can also tell. And when you get older, gravity will really take over--no matter how small you were when you let it all hang out.

11. Large women should watch out for strapless bras. They may say "maximum staying power" or whatever, but they don't always live up to those promises. Try moving around a lot when trying on the bra to see if it will stay up. If not, try to find something with clear straps.

12. If you have small breasts, your bra straps should not cut into your shoulders. Try unloosening the strap a little to see if the indentation grows smaller. If not, try a different bra.

13. While florals, bright colors and rhinestones are oh-so-appealing on bras in the store, they may not always go so well under your clothing. For the majority of your bra wardrobe, go for nude- and beige-colored bras, a few whites and a few blacks. Once you have your neutrals, then you can go bananas with flashy brassieres.

14. If a bra is uncomfortable, it doesn't fit well. Move on to something else. A bra should never be uncomfortable. Ever.

15. Facts of life: There are always more choices in the bra section for smaller-breasted women. Bras made for small breasts are usually not very supportive, and brim-full of padding. Going to a lingerie or bra store is the best bet for the femme in need of a good bra collection, without incurring undue stress in her search.

16. As for bathing suits, small-breasted ladies pretty much have the pick of the litter. Just make sure the shape the suit gives your breast is as natural as possible, and that your top is supportive and sturdy--you don't want to become exposed in public. For large-breasted women, Calvin Klein now has a line of bathing suits (bikini and one-piece) with underwire bras built in, all the way up to 38DD. Dillards also has a large collection of suits in bigger sizes and with more supportive choices.

The flat-out truth

You know you've seen people wearing those long, skinny, flat-soled Converse shoes and knock-offs with a similar shape. They're the premier old-school tennis shoe, and they're sold in multiple colors.

The most disturbing thing about these shoes, is that people love to wear them. And the people who wear these shoes should not be wearing them.

A very skinny shoe makes a large person look top heavy--from the tip of his or her head down to the ankles. You have a very large silhouette atop tiny little feet.

A very thin person wearing a thin shoe has a similarly unattractive effect: thin, lanky and, well, stringy. If that's the look you're going for, fine. But it probably won't get you laid.

Wearing ultra-thin, flat-soled shoes with skinny jeans is a big no-no. Skinny jeans are bad enough on most people, but to pair them with pancake-flat shoes is grotesque. Such a combination makes the body appear to taper down to nothing.

Far too many people purchase these shoes in black. First of all, black shoes in general are not flattering. Especially on white people. But to wear them with shorts, is just a crime against fashion.

Word to the wise: stay away from shoes that will damage any chances you have of creating a flattering body shape.

S is for Sexy Spring Shoes

A springtime zappos.com search revealed these finds. Most are from Stuart Weitzman, others are from Anne Klein, Donald J. Pliner and Lacoste. These are the 12 hottest shoes from the site's "Redondo Drive" category.