This morning I woke up sore from playing the beautiful game all of yesterday afternoon, went to the kitchen to eat my ten cent fig bagel, and walked out into gorgeous 80 degree weather. Does it get better than this?
I’m writing this post for the benefit of my poor snowbound city, which is having its yearly Snowpocalypse, and is surely in need of something pleasant to read. What is exciting and fun in DC has become what Joe Wenner would create a blog to say is “trite” in Buffalo. But I guess this storm is worse than usual? Good thing the Egyptians in my magazine writing class assured me global warming is a western myth. Whatevs, they’re the ones who built their nation in a flood basin. Let’s see how their precious ancient irrigation techniques work when the polar ice cap melts. But anyway, with all the Western New York suburban police and state troopers working hard to free stranded motorists, who is harassing the underage youth and creating fake Facebook accounts to find out where all the hot parties are? The whole situation seems dangerous to me.
The holidays are here and I have a holiday story! So, Thanksgiving came about and Emily, Maddie, and Zoya all traveled away from Cario. Cue us moving into their apartment for the weekend, in order to prepare a feast. Traveling down on Wednesday night, Ryan, Richie, and I woke up early around noon to get things rolling. Pat met up with us and we knocked the shopping out of the way. We had to settle for a chicken because we were too cheap to buy a turkey. And this chicken was FROZEN. Like, one of the most frozen chickens I’ve encountered in my young life. Fortunately, the internet said we could cook a frozen chicken. Unfortunately, Momma Gallagher said we had to remove the bag of innards from the chicken before we could cook it. Turns out chickens don’t defrost as quickly as you’d hope they would, and in retrospect maybe we should have gotten up even earlier than 12. But there was no time to dwell on past mistakes, so we promptly ladled boiling water into the chicken for the next hour. Finally, things felt like they loosened up in there. By this time Andrew Daly and his roommate John had shown up. Richie reached into the semi-thawed chicken, and excitedly proclaimed, “Got it.” What he withdrew though was no innard, or what is normally an innard, but instead the head and neck of the chicken, and we all freaked out. I’m not sure if this is standard fare in cooking chickens, but it shook us up pretty bad. I mean Richie had just pulled a chicken’s head out of a chicken’s anus; there was a certain shock factor that maybe I’m not conveying. Anyway, we continued to pour boiling water and finally the bag of innards came out and we cooked the bird. All other parts of the meal came together very nicely, aided by the arrival of the token girl, Kiki, who made things run a bit smoother and made an excellent Arabian desert. And when we took the chicken out of the oven and John prepared to slice and dice it, Kiki told us we were morons and that we had actually cooked a turkey! A Thanksgiving miracle! We did have to admit that it would have been a pretty large chicken, and closer inspection of the anus-head did reveal some turkey-like features. But the meal turned out to be wunderbar, very filling, and only Pat and I got seriously sick. All in all, a very happy Thanksgiving.
But it isn’t a complete paradise here. Sure, I’ll always have the weather, prices, and abundant soccer, but there is more to life than that. For instance, the janitor who comes in everyday to mop our floor has developed the habit of taking his break after opening the door, but before doing any cleaning. Coincidentally, we are seeing a lot more bugs in the apartment, and every day I wake up with at least three new bites.
And then my lap top contracted a virus, probably from watching soccer games on illegal sites (at least that’s what I told my dad). This coincided poorly with me actually having work to do, and has since forced me into the dorm computer lab. But it’s not so bad in there, as I get to hang with the Egyptian students here on scholarship who don’t have lap tops to ruin. There is Shady Samy (his real name), Mighty Magded (not his real name), and about seven Achmed’s. We have a good time, the only real difference of opinion coming from my desire to listen to Christmas music and their desire to youtube explanations of mathematical equations. Guys, I got a 2 on my AP Calculus exam (thank you multiple choice), if you have a question just ask!
And o! the work. It is like I’m at a real college doing a real major (something I haven’t experienced since freshman year, if you count international relations as a real major). 8 page paper here, 10 page paper there, power point presentations galore, a long feature story, and then finals. All in the next two weeks! Which means I should probably stop procrastinating, and start applying some original analysis to this romantic literature that has been lying in front of me for the last week. Hey guys, can you turn down the Pythagorean Theorem?