Category: The Others

I never said i was smart

I spent the larger part of the morning figuring out why the F my speakers weren’t working. This included restarting my computer twice, unplugging everything and plugging it in again, vacuuming the inside, outside and surroundings of my computer & putting it back together again. All in all I spend around 2,5 hours fiddling around with it, and I still didn’t manage to fix the problem. So by the time Seb came over to watch a movie, I was pretty pissed.

Then Seb takes one look at the computer, looks pensive, and says: “I think I know what’s wrong with it.”

To which I reply, utterly relieved: “You do?

“Yes, I’ve had this happen to me once.”

“Well, can you fix it?”

“Oh, I don”t know… It’s pretty tricky, but I’ll try.”

*Seb unplugs headphones from computer*

I felt so dumb. It’s shit like this that makes me wonder how I ever made it to university. I have no idea how I managed to not notice that my headphones were plugged in, because a) I basically took my computer apart, b) managed to unplug everything else, and c) my headphones are huge.

When’s the last time you felt like a moron?

Thank you

You know you have a great best friend when he lets you try out foundation on him cause you want to buy it as a gift for a female friend who has the exact same skin tone. Especially when there are tons of people watching, and you forgot that foundation can be tested out on the palm of the hand, so you’re smearing it all over his face.

Me: What do you think, Jack?
Jack: I think he needs blush.
Seb: Fuck you, I’m pretty!


Mind you, said female friend actually put this on her wish list. It’s not like I go around giving makeup to people, gently suggesting that they need it. Those gifts are not always appreciated. I remember when my neighbor once gave me soap for my birthday. Not some luxurious shower gel – no. An honest to God bar of soap. I recall saying thank you, but I also recall that in my mind I was going “Do I smell bad? Are my hands dirty? Am I… etc.” (Turned out she gave me the soap with the best of intentions. She knew I love everything that has a green apple scent, and this was the only thing she could find. Oh, and she also gave me a gift card for a bookstore.)

Which makes me wonder… Have you ever gotten a gift you were secretly (or openly) offended by?

On why i dont have my best friends on facebook

In a world that seems to have accepted Facebook as its leader, I feel like I have to explain myself on this one. Because no, I don’t “have” my best friends on FB. Very consciously so, because that site makes you lazy.

If it’s a good friend’s birthday, I want to pick up the phone and actually call them to say congratulations – or better yet, go over there. If someone lands a job, a good grade or accomplishes anything that they’re proud of, I want to be proud of them too, instead of hitting the like button and be done with it.

Who of you has ever had this conversation?

Me: Guess what happened to me?
Other person: You’ve [insert random something here]. I saw it on Facebook!

… It just takes the surprise out of life.

At least for me. I’m not saying that it’s the same for everyone, or that my way is right and others are wrong. It’s just that, for me, this works.

Also, FB makes me paranoid. If I ask someone a question, and a few moments later there’s a status update from said someone saying something like “Gawd some people are dumb”, I immediately start to wonder if it is me that they are referring too. I don’t ever want to wonder about that with my friends.

That said, I do have my boyfriend on there. In part because he added me way before we were a couple. I don’t think we were even talking on a regular basis at that point. And now that we are, I fear that if I would “defriend” him, people would tumble all over me wanting to know what happened with me and James.

Which makes me wonder… Do you have your own Facebook “rules”?

Gratitude & SPSS overload

First; thank you all so much for the advice It’s very much appreciated!

As for the rest… I wish I had something more interesting to blog about, but here’s the deal: SPSS has been tormenting me for three days straight. You’d think it’d be easier to run a statistical analysis with the help of a computer instead of doing it by hand, but… no. At one point I was in front of my computer, surrounded by about 5 SPSS manuals. That can’t be right, right? In the end, we got it done, though. Sorta. We’re still missing a margin of error, but honestly, I don’t care.

Ever since our teacher took a tumble down the stairs and broke her ankle, we’ve gotten way behind on schedule. It was only last week that we got a notification that someone else was taking over for her.

Bummer #1: It’s an actual professor instead of a TA. I had him for two courses in my first year, and he isn’t exactly a ray of sunshine. I bet he could make the biggest insomniac fall into a coma.
Bummer #2: He wanted us to catch up in a week. Really? REALLY?! After weeks of not getting any feedback whatsoever, we had a LOT of editing to do. We had exactly three days to find 132 participants for our research, and then analyze the data.

I swear, if it hadn’t been for Seb and his Cuban espressos I probably wouldn’t have survived. Sure, too much of them makes you wonder if you turned into a Parkinson’s patient, but DANG that coffee’s good. And it keeps you going when you’re running on fumes.

I sure could have used a cup (or three) when I had to get up at 7 this morning to make it to my appointment with the jaw surgeon in time… Long story short: I grind my teeth at night. Badly. I have a mouth guard for it, but that doesn’t help with the painful jaw. Last time I went in they told me to only eat soft food for 6 weeks (and let me tell ya, that gets old real quick). Didn’t help. So now I was prescribed some muscle relaxers that I have to take before I go to sleep. We’ll see how that works out.

On a much brighter note, I did manage to obtain some nifty earplugs for on the plane that supposedly help with earaches during a flight (another side effect from teeth grinding: your ears start to hurt), as well as a medical passport. The fact that I’m flying from Amsterdam will probably result in customs searching my bag, so I don’t really want to have prescription medication with me that I have no doctor’s statement for. Ha. So at least I got that out of the way!

Only 42 more days until I fly to TX… Can’t wait to finally see my boyfriend again!

It’s the european in me

Since I’ll be flying to Texas in little over a month, I’ve started piecing together a collection of summer clothing. Living in Holland, you don’t really need summer clothes. Apart from the fluke heat waves we get from time to time, you can pretty much just wear a pair of jeans and a top during summer. And sometimes you need a coat. Pretty much the only thing that changes during summer is that I chuck my sweaters in a corner, and that’s that.

But July and August in Texas? I think I’ll die of a heatstroke if I wear my usual clothes. 94.6 average? Last time I experienced that sort of weather was during my Egypt trip, and I only survived because I was in the Red Sea for hours on end (and the pool, after I saw a hammer head shark while snorkeling and after doing some research discovered there were 11 more deathly kinds lurking around).

But yes, to get back on topic: I need summer clothes. And who better to help me than my American friends? But strangely, this is the conversation we seem to keep having…

Me: “Can I pull this off in Texas?”
Any given American friend: “You mean when you go out?”
Me: “No I mean during the day.”
Any given American friend: “You’d be seriously overdressed.”
Me: “Oh… How about this?”

And than we repeat the conversation all over again.

I remember Sue saying she felt like a slob when she first got here, rocking out her sweatpants and sneakers during classes while I (and the rest of the European students) were clad in skinny jeans, skirts, ankle boots, blouses and cute tops. I do my hair before class, and more often than not I put some make-up on my face (not like I’m going clubbing, but still… there’s make-up involved in my morning ritual).

Me: “So I can’t do that in Texas?”
Seb: “Sure you can…”
Me: “Great!”
Seb: “…If you want to look like you’re doing a walk of shame.”
Me: “… Balls.”

I don’t want to be seen as a stuck-up, snooty European. I don’t want to look like I’m trying to hard. And I sure as hell don’t want to look like I’m doing a walk of shame every single morning strutting around for the nearest Starbucks (1.97mi).

So I guess what I’m trying to say is… HALP?!


A few days ago, I bought one of those waking light alarm clock things, then decided I didn’t really want it three minutes later. I have this deep fear of cashiers looking at me funny for buying something and then returning it almost right after, so I kind of guilt tripped Seb into doing it for me. He really didn’t want to do it either, but finally grabbed the bag out of my hand with a not too friendly “FINE!” and stalked off to the register (we hadn’t even left the store yet and I’d already changed my mind). Sure enough, the following conversation took place:

Seb: “Hi, I’d like to return this alarm clock.”
Cashier: *looks at receipt* “But sir, you’ve bought this 5 minutes ago.” *Looks at him like he’s batshit crazy*
Seb: “I’m fickle-minded.” *while glaring at me*

I am fickle minded, I really am. James and I once spent hours walking from store to store searching for Supernatural season 3. Then when we finally found it, I didn’t want to buy it anymore. It’s extremely annoying and the reason I usually do my shopping alone. Funny enough, it’s different with clothes. Maybe because I know right away if I want to wear something or not. Same thing with books (although, no, I don’t wear my books). But other stuff? I like to stand in front of it for about ten years, maybe pick it up and read what’s on the box, put it down again, walk around the store, then do the same thing all over again.

What can I say, I’m weird.

I was just looking for a new alarm clock that says “beep beep”. Then I came across the waking light (which was expensive!) went to show it to Seb who I didn’t realize was already in line to purchase something else, and before I knew it the lady said “can I help you, ma’am?”

What was I supposed to say, “No, I’d like to think about it some more?”

So I bought it. Then made Seb return it.

And now I still don’t have an alarm clock.

words of advice (x2)

A word of advise: If you ever find yourself in need of a piñata, for the love of god, don’t leave it up to a Cuban guy and a Jewish girl. S.P. and I spent countless hours on making one for S.C., and what started out as a horse ended up looking like… I don’t even know. Some lama/elephant/Michael Myers hybrid. The thing was a monstrosity. At least it served it’s purpose well: S.C. beat the crap out of it to get rid of some pent up anger. Break-ups suck.

Another word of advise: if you ever find yourself craving Chinese food, don’t let someone who doesn’t speak Dutch order it off a Dutch website. You might just end up with 3 of everything and have to call people over for an impromptu Chinese food party. We did have fun, though. I pretended to be a walrus for the larger part of the evening and we had a great time overall. But S.P., for future reference, Holland has the same numerical system as America. I promise.

I love my friends

“If there is one art form that makes me cake to the banks of boredom like a yawning hippo, it’s poetry.”
– Seb.

I’m so grateful for friends who randomly blurt out brilliant things like this. The irony is that it’s kind of poetic, non?

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