Girl With a Cherry Red Wig

Geez, what have I been missing all these years by not dressing up for Halloween? I think my favorite costume that I saw at Smoke's was the girl dressed as a wad of gum stuck under a shoe. She had a sneaker on top of her head, and I thought that was just fantastic.

On another note, yesterday, I broke my already-dysfunctional laptop. I get sad every time I think of all the music I've downloaded since freshman year, all vanished. That is hours- no days of downloading and organizing, all down the proverbial tube. Le sigh.

Define Fine

Pere Rienne: I'm fine!

Agent Grace: No you're not, you're ears are bleeding!

~ Alias, The Next Generation

Hee hee! I've been laughing intermittently at this line for a few hours now.

Boo!

Introducing pets into the Chung household is like sending those poor creatures to their deaths.

Death count:

2 tropical fish

1 baby frog

1 goat (the other one, I'm sure, ended up on someone's dinner plate).

As far as I'm concerned, the only pets that should be allowed in our family are

(a) a pet rock,

(b) a sponge, or

(c) cactus,

although, with (b), I'm not so sure. Anyway, it's Halloween, and we have a tradition here at Harnwell College House (aka: the Ochre highrise), where the RA's/GA's beautify the Harnwell lobby with the works: cobwebs, furry spiders, paper ghosts and bats, scarecrows, and of course, the requisite GIANT BLACK CAT that just...sits there waiting to be stolen, but too big for the job; and one-by-one, things start to disappear, ending up in various residents' dorm rooms. By Halloween, I can almost guarantee, the lobby will be like a skeleton of its former, festive self- a few cobwebs here, a candy wrapper there.

Anyway, meet our new pet, Boo! Boo is a white paper-ghost, with an accordian-style body, orange eyes and a winning smile. The best, most fantastic thing about Boo is, no matter how many times you drop him from the internet cord, or how many times you forget to feed him- no problem- he's already dead! How genius is that? A ghost is the perfect pet for the Chung family.

Checklist

Black turtleneck: check

Black pants: check

Fake mole: check

Fake blood as remnants of impromptu meanie-mo dental surgery: note to self: make a run to CVS sometime this week

Bright Red Wig: CHECK!

Who's excited for Halloween?!!!!!!!!!!!

It's a Mad Mad Mad Mad World

It's Spanish period, and Agent Halogen sits at her desk crocheting a tunic.

Teach: Jin, why aren't you doing your work?

Agent Halogen: I'm done.

Teach: You are not a steak. You are finished.

I must have, like, the worst sense of humor because when I heard this story, I laughed so ridiculously hard. I mean, it's funny, right? Sometimes, I can't tell if it's me, or the rest of the world who lacks a proper sense of humor.

Distractions

(Based on a true story) It is a lazy spring afternoon and the Kids of math 371 are sitting in a classroom on the 4th floor of the DRL (yes, THE), listening rather inattentively to the lecture on...something to do with algebra.

Prof: Blah Blah Blither Blather Hip Hop...to infinity.

Voice: ...and beyond!

The Kids are shaken out of their stupor by this alien outburst.

Brooke: Hey, everyone, it's Buzz Lightyear!

Ravi: Buzz Lightyear, of Star Command? You're joking!

A little man dressed up in a green and purple space suit jumps on top of Ravi's desk with surprising agility, considering the size of his torso, which is hugely disproportionate to his skinny legs.

Voice: No, Ravi, she is not joking. I'm Buzz Lightyear, here to rescue you from the malevolent rays of Uniform Factorization Domains. Nice to meet you.

Prof: Ugh, it's that pesky Buzz Lightyear, come to destroy the peaceful monotony that reigns over my algebraic kingdom-ain. Now where'd I put that...

The Prof rummages through her desk, opening and shutting drawers and muttering to herself. After a minute, she pulls out what looks like a stick with a rubber hand forming a finger attached to one end. Carefully, she aims for her target, who appears to be totally oblivious to his enemy's activities, and flings the finger at her distractor.

Buzz: ...yeah, and did you know, it's Tim Allen who does my voice in the movie?

Delia: Tim "the Toolman" Taylor? No way!

Buzz: Oh yes, and- Eek!

The finger hits Buzz squarely between the eyes, and the space ranger screams spectacularly as he goes tumbling backward off Ravi's desk and into the trash can with a clang. The Kids gather around the trash can in shock.

Brooke: Wow, Professor, you just killed Buzz Lightyear!

Ravi: Our universe is doomed.

The End.

I can't be the only one who gets the urge to shout "...and beyond!" every time I hear "to infinity" in math class.

Today, I was so tired that during the thirty minute bus ride to King of Prussia mall, I kept on nodding off and nearly hitting the poor lady sitting next to me. Sorry, lady.

For the record, Agents Merlyn & Firefly rock my socks off! Such intel has been declassified.

Over & out.

Recycle- It's Good for the Earth

...and for writer's block.

"I haven't lost at checkers since the beginning of time...which, incidently, began on a Tuesday. Not many people know that." ~ Death (the Animaniacs)

The Adventures of Time: Part 1

Once upon a time, there lived a homeless dog called Time. Well, since he had a name, he could not have been homeless all his life because someone had to name him. And so Time decided to search for his long-lost owner. Although, Time was the one who was really lost.

Time trotted around the streets of the city, his long brown fur jostling around with each bounce. Pitter-patter, pitter-patter went his padded paws. Sniff-snaff went his nose. Suddenly, Time screeched to a halt and landed in front of a strange square object. Sniff-snaff-sniff-snaff-sniff! His nose started working overtime as he tried to identify this mysterious object that just sat dejectedly on the sidewalk. Time poked and barked at it but the square thing did not budge, not once. Was it dead? Time wondered? Well, one of Time's timeless rules was that one should never let things go to waste. Even dead things.

Now, when one thinks carefully about this rule, it must seem strange indeed. Our mothers are always telling us to eat up everything on the plate; Don't let the food go to waste. But once the food is chewed, swallowed and forced through the bowels, what does it become but waste in its most fundamental form as a piece of ddong?

But this questionable aspect of Time's golden rule did not hinder him from obeying it unconditionally, for Time was a loyal dog. And so Time gobbled up the square object, smacked his lips and trotted on happily.

And that is what happened to the peanut butter and jelly sandwich that young Francis threw out the window.

References: Everybody Poops by Taro Gomi and Amanda Mayer Stinchecum

Bagel...What a Funny Word

Every day, I walk out of DRL and buy a bagel with cream cheese at the nearby food cart. Have you ever had a really delicious bagel that just tops every other bagel you've ever had? Well, I did. It was unforgettabagel.

HAHAHAHAHAHA!

I wish I thought up that one on my own, but alas, I actually found it through the linguistics department website.

You know what just makes my day? On the "bagel" page on Wikipedia, there is a section on "Bagel Care":

"The ideal way to eat a bagel is fresh out of the oven from a reputable and friend-recommended bagel shop."

Also, a word of caution:

"Bagels should never be confused with doughnuts."

Actually, if we were to consult a topologist, he would say that a bagel and doughnut are the same thing. I've always said topologists were the worst kinds of heretics.

It Makes Her Day

Do you know what just makes my day? The pink cow jumping over the moon on my desktop. Have a bovine day, folks.

Phantom Floor

It was my first day back at work at Abramson Research Center. I got on the elevator as usual, pressed the button for the eighth floor and waited as the bell sounded at each floor, mentally counting each ding. That is when I realized that Abramson doesn't have a sixth floor!

Isn't that strange?

What is the deal?

Was it a mistake in the blueprint?

Is six an unlucky number?

Wouldn't it be weird if we woke up one day to discover that the number six didn't exist? Or maybe the number 9 because 7 got hungry in the middle of the night and 7 8 9.

I wouldn't lose too much sleep over these questions, people. Numbers don't get hungry.

A Good Omen

I bought my textbooks today, and the total came to $314.15- the first 5 digits of pi! I was debating whether to share this bit of nerdy observation with the cashier, but ultimately decided to keep it to myself. Call me selfish. All the same, I take it as a sign from the math gods that this year is gonna be a good one, and so far, it has been very fun indeed.

Bonne chance, tout le monde!

Joke Corner

So Einstein and Archimedes walk into a newly-renovated bar...

Archimedes: This bar has totally lost its charm, hoo!

Einstein: I know, now it's just strange.

HEE! I know, I know: NOT THAT FUNNY, ANGIE. But guys, it so is if you understand that "charm" and "strange" are types of quarks, the building blocks of protons and neutrons. See, in the world of physics- and hence, in our universe in general- quarks are classified into different flavors: up, down, top/truth, bottom/beauty, charm, strange, and mint-chocolate cookie. Mmm...

Now, go back and reread the joke and laugh your socks off.

He Needs Yoga

Sarah: Heh, look at this picture of Kevin with John Kerry! He DOES look weird.

Angie: Wow, look how stiff he is! I think that's a cardboard cutout, Sarah.

Sarah: Ohhh...

Angie: Yeah, I know, he could totally pass for a cardboard cutout of himself.

That man is stiff.

Welcoming Death

Today, Sbarro's made me want to die. Food poisoning does that to you: welcome death with open arms, I mean. Did I get the shitz? Boy, did I. Did I spew cookies? You betcha. More than once, I contemplated asking Sarah to knock me unconscious with a swift punch in the head. But then, I thought, what if she doesn't hit me hard enough? Instead, I let her take care of me in her own way: making tea, changing my barf bag, etc. I guess it was better this way.

Jesster's Bed

I love Jess's bed. It is red and white with pretty designs on it, but that is not why I love Jess's bed. Today, I was lying on top of her covers, and I noticed that there are tufts of red yarn growing out of her them. Each tuft has a knot in the middle and grows equidistantly from its neighboring tufts of hair. Sometimes, I see fire. Sometimes I see Sideshow Bob's head. Then, I braided one of the tufts on either side of the central knot, and I saw Pippy Longstocking's crazy red pigtails growing out of her wonderful covers. Now you understand why I love Jess's bed.

The Taste of Childhood with a Twist

When we were kids, James, Sarah and I spent a lot of time at piano lessons. Sure, we played the piano. We played the piano as much as we played rummy, swatted at house flies with rags, salted slugs and watched them morph into orange ooze, and got fed. Sometimes, Piano Teacher (that was her name) would take out a whole jar of peanut butter and mix honey into it. It was peanut butter with a twist.

One sultry, summer evening in Philly, more than a decade later, Sarah and I were grocery shopping at Frogro, when we happened upon a jar of JIF peanut butter with a yellow lid instead of the characteristic red (creamy) or blue (crunchy). It was honey-flavored peanut butter, Piano Teacher's special creation, on the market. Well, I thought, it took a while, but they've finally caught on.

Despite all the rages of the present world, we can still go to the supermarket and purchase a jar of good ole JIF peanut butter for that homely, classic, creamy taste of a peanut butter & jelly sandwich. The availability of our "taste of childhood" is a decent measure of the state of our nation. If things are not so bad that we cannot enjoy a PBJ at the kitchen table, then we can be sure that problems will mend, scars will heal, despite all the rages of the present world.

Villandry Bike Trip

One day, Sarah and I had the brilliant idea of biking 20 kilometers to Villandry and camping out- tent and all- at a nearby campsite in Savonniers. We ended up waging war with a multitude of ants and ultimately being chased out of our flimsy tent by those multilegged, militant bitches and sons of bitches. Sometimes, though, even the defeated are rewarded- a pity prize, I guess. As we sat on a bench a few feet from the banks of the calm Cher river, we saw the night come alive.

It started with the slow setting of the sun. Rose hues and soft oranges fading gradually into light shades of lavender and yellow. But watching the night fall is akin to watching one's hair grow. We start watching with such determination and patience, hoping to catch the strands in the act of growing, but somewhere down the line, we forget our purpose. A few months later as we brush our hair in front of the mirror, we realize with a shock that hoo boy, a visit to the barber shop has been long overdue. Perhaps, at this point, the hair is sweeping the floor and now you realize why the house has been so clean lately.

Anyway, so that is what it is like to wait for the sun to set. I blinked, and suddenly all the objects around me were silhouetted, as if a painter had come and brushed the trees and the sailboats and the distant cabins and even us, I am sure, in black ink. By now, the air feels a bit chilly, and so I pull open my sleeping bag and the two of us, Sarah and I, sat wrapped up in bright pink or mint green sleeping bags like a pair of caterpillars waiting in their cocoons to morph into a pair of summer butterflies.

Then the music started. The croaking, the chirping, the cawing, and the dolphin calls, the rustling and the wind! My God, what a ruckus! But all the creatures are invisible to the human eye, hidden in the banks, under the river, or behind shrubs and other vegetation. And where are the dolphins? Dolphins in the Cher? Truth be told, ever since I watched that Simpsons episode where the dolphins kick man into the ocean and take over land, I've had a slight irrational fear of the beady-eyed creatures- that evil glint in their glistening eyes, and their fixed, malicious smiles, their horrible clicking sounds that send uncomfortable shivers down my back and make my skin feel all prickly...I shuddered inwardly as these thoughts assailed my mind.

"Something wrong, Ann?" asked Sarah.

"Nah, just a little cold."

"It's the dolphins isn't it?"

"...God, they're creepy."

Fitzgerald

The large room was filled with people. One of the girls in yellow was playing the piano, and beside her stood a tall, red-haired young lady from a famous chorus, engaged in song. She had drunk a quantity of champagne, and during the course of her song she had decided, ineptly, that everything was very, very sad - she was not only singing, she was weeping too. Whenever there was a pause in the song she filled it with gasping, broken sobs, and then took up the lyric again in a quavering soprano. The tears coursed down her cheeks - not freely, however, for when they came into contact with her heavily beaded eyelashes they assumed an inky colour, and pursued the rest of their way in slow black rivulets. A humorous suggestion was made that she sing the notes on her face, whereupon she threw up her hands, sank into a chair, and went off into a deep vinous sleep.

Kodak Moment?

I was sitting at a table in Au Bon Pain, reading an Agatha Christie mystery and enjoying the usual jalepeno-cheddar bagel. On either side of me sat two women with their noses in Harry Potter 5, Order of the Phoenix, completely engrossed.

Get used to it people! It is the week before HP 6 comes out, and fans are prepping all over the world for the release by rereading 1-5...it is a world-wide phenomenon.

A.C.

Sarah: Air conditioner?

Angie: Air conditioner? Your sister's name is Angie Chung, we are in Atlantic City, and the first thing you think of when I say A.C. is "Air Conditioner"? It's a sin, Sarah, a sin!

That's right, folks, yesterday some friends and I decided to take the train down to A.C. for some beach. It was so fun playing in the ocean! There was this dune far out into the ocean, where it was shallow enough so that we could stand on it and the water would come up to our knees. Hoa taught us how to body surf and how to swim with the wave when there's a big one coming, and it was so fun that now, I want to try surfing! Also, we had a seaweed fight.

Hoa: I want clams. There's no better way to end a day at the beach then clams with hot sauce and beer. And lime-flavored tortilla chips.

Lime-flavored tortilla chips! I was sold.

So we ended the day with muscles (no more clams at Frogro), zesty lime-flavored tortilla chips and "The Phantom of the Opera", during which I did the whole sleepy-person whiplash thing and finally conked out. I think I am still slightly jetlagged. By the way, the music is really something. I've heard "The Music of the Night" and the theme song all my life, and even played it in band, but last night, I finally heard the real thing, and it was really something.

Online confession: I had no idea how much I missed my friends until yesterday. As we were walking home from the train station, we went by Hill House and waved to it.

"Hi Hill!"

"Hey Hill!"

"Good times, Hill. Good times, good memories."

Hill House was where we all met, freshman year, and here we are four years later, still friends.