Goodbye, summer job. Hello, sophomore year.

The nightmares I had last semester were of me hitting this guy in my health class in the face with a dodge ball. Repeatedly. I think I talked to that kid once and that was only when I said out loud to myself that I was the least athletic person on the planet and he heard me and agreed. So then I friended him on Facebook, because, you know, that’s the logical thing to do. The nightmares I had over the summer were of accidentally putting a high chair at the end of a 6-top, because we weren’t allowed to since they get in the way of the food runners. Laugh all you want, but I’ve woken up in the middle of the night after dreaming about a server yelling at me for putting people at table that was too small for them or that I double sat them. I think that last sentence is proof I need to get out more.

I worked as a host at a restaurant over the summer. It was my first “real” job and I’ve never hated and loved the general public more in my entire life. I loved the days when I got to talk to people while we were on a wait or give food recommendations if I was taking their to-go order over the phone. Unfortunately, there weren’t many days like that. Did you know that some adults don’t know about the concept of tax? Some woman threatened me about lying to her about the price of an appetizer and declared she wouldn’t pay for her takeout order because instead of it being $5 like it was on the menu, the total ended up being $5.51. Also, sometimes bosses can be worse than the customers. That’s never fun, because to customers I can say “Ma’am, we’re currently on a wait and if you don’t like the table I gave you, you’ll have to be put back on the list until another table opens up.” but to managers I can’t say “Hey, you’re kind treating me like total crud right now so stop it.” without worrying about losing my job. I learned a lot this summer, got over my fear of talking on the phone since it inevitably rang at least once every ten minutes, and was able to talk to a lot of great (and not so great) people. As much as I enjoyed the job, it’s nice to be back at school.

I came back a few days early so I could spend time with girls who moved off campus before classes start this week. Almost all of them are in sororities, and none of them are allowed to talk to non-sorority girls because they might somehow persuade us to join their sorority (?) and they’ll get in trouble. They can take one look at my bank account and see I can’t afford it. Also, I’m about as un-sorority-girl as it gets. So I can’t see most of the people I came up a week early to be with. Luckily my roommate isn’t affiliated so she and I have gotten to spend a lot of time together. Also, another reason why I came back early was to enjoy freshmen move in day. Was I that hopelessly confused last year? Did I really look that nerdy carrying around my folder with all of my freshmen week info in it? Did I just go to Walmart and accidentally buy air freshener refills instead of actual air freshener? The answer is yes to all of those. We currently have a Glades plug-in refill in our air conditioning vent in hopes that we can somehow get the room to smell like Hawaiian breeze. Basically my life since I came back on Friday has consisted of organizing our room, being the sober, responsible one at a party with two of my friends on Saturday night (I saved both of them from being hit by a car and they don’t even remember…), making a chocolate cake with the only utensils being a 9×13 pan, a fork, and a tablespoon, and being asked “So,what’s your major? Are you a freshman?” by everyone here. Also, my wonderful roommate who doubles as one of my best friends has woken me up every morning with some random request. Sunday morning it was let’s make a chocolate cake! and this morning it was let’s get some fish! So I guess I’ll be spending my hard-earned money on some fish. Maybe I’ll be able to keep this one alive for more than 12 days like the last one. Updates to follow.

College girl blogging in the dead of night, take these broken wings and learn to pack for college SINCE YOU’RE LEAVING TOMORROW.

My 18th birthday was August 4th, my graduation and birthday parties are long gone, and now I’m sitting here wondering how Corrupted Brother got my phone to play Candy Crush. Also, why is a 4 year old better at that game than I am? And why is he talking smack to himself? Why are we so weird.

But the craziest part of my life right now is the fact that I’m leaving tomorrow. For college. I’m rise and shining in the wee hours of the morning so I can make the long drive with my parents, Sister Celiac, and Spider Baby. I really haven’t cooked in a while, so I’ll just fill you in on what’s been going on the past few weeks.

tim lopez tom higgenson plain white t's concert

I’ve always had an imaginary bucket list that I’ve never written down and don’t actually add stuff to. I just say I have one to be a cool cat. Although I’m pretty sure calling myself a cool cat cancels out all coolness that I might possess. One thing that I wish was on my imaginary bucket list was to go to a Plain White T’s concert. I’ve always liked them, even though their songs are kinda stupid and they don’t have the best voices. They came to St. Louis back in July and I asked around to see if anyone wanted to go with me. I could only find two friends to go with because, uh, their songs are kinda stupid and they don’t have the best voices. The concert was fantastic. There were probably 50 people there at the most, it was very laid-back, and we got to meet the somewhat beautiful lead guitarist, Tim Lopez. I told him if he ever came back to St. Louis there was another concert venue here that I preferred to the one we were at right then. He seemed genuinely interested and introduced himself and said he’d try to remember me for the next time they came in town. Why is it that I am better at making friends with celebrities than with normal people? Remember when I met Tyler Glenn from Neon Trees and the guys from Honor Society and we totally became best friends? Messed up, yo.

joe kelly st louis cardinals

I got two Cardinals baseball tickets for my birthday, and it was probably one of my favorite presents. Of course I really appreciated all the money I got, but money can’t buy me love/baseball tickets, except for when it can (?). The friend I usually to baseball games with had to work that night, so I decided to ask a guy who I’m going to college with instead. Aren’t guys supposed to know all about sports? Because he was clueless. He was referring to the runs as “points,” and had no idea who any of the players were. I spent a majority of the game attempting to explain the rules to him and ignoring the drunk lady in front of us who kept offering to buy us booze for double the price. As if the night couldn’t get anymore wonderful, the tickets were right by the bullpen and my favorite pitcher was starting that night. Dear Joe Kelly, I know you’re getting married, but I’m single and ready to mingle if for some reason things with your fiancée don’t work out. Age is just a number, darling.

nursing hat napkin

I had two graduation parties, actually. One was a combination birthday/graduation party, and the other was a luncheon with some of my neighbors. Both were retro themed but very different, and I’m not sure which one I preferred. Although I might have liked the luncheon better because LOOK WHAT SHOWED UP.

1940 oldsmobile

The woman who was hosting the party arranged to have this pick me up and drive me around. It was a 1940’s Oldsmobile that hadn’t been refurbished. One of my favorite parts was the built-in ashtrays on the armrests. Why don’t those exist anymore? We had been driving for about five minutes when the car ran out of gas. It was pretty funny, and if anyone wants to get me a belated birthday present, I would gladly accept that car. I finally have my license now. I only had to sit in the DMV for almost three hours the other day to get it. Missouri DMVs. Don’t even get me started. My Italian mother and I both were about to karate chop people in the face the entire time. We need to work on that…

I’m going to wrap this up right now because I’m leaving the house in 18 hours and I’m nowhere near packed. So far the only things that are really packed up are my shoes.

converse collection

And yes, it is absolutely necessary to bring all of these. Mainly because I only have 4 pairs of non-Converse/Vans. Whoops? I’ll do my best to blog in a few days once I get settled in. Wish me luck.

We are Cardinal Nation.

As an American, I love baseball. And if you’re American and don’t love baseball, I think we need to go all Survivor on you and vote you off the island. If so, no matter how hard I plead, do not give me a tiki torch like they use on that show. I walked straight into a wall yesterday, so I can only imagine how I’d be around fire and baseball haters.

shelby miller walking to the mound

I think my love for baseball is equal to one of those crazy European football fans who will go beat up fans from the other team after a game. If you ever pass through St. Louis, you definitely need to hit up a Cardinals game. There honestly isn’t a bad seat in the entire stadium, and the higher up you go, the better a view of the arch and downtown you have. We are pretty dedicated, and a lot of diehard Cardinals fans will follow the team all over the United States. Our stadium is almost sold out every game too, unlike the Marlins who have had to close their upper deck because no one was coming to the games (too soon?). We even have our own hashtag. #cardinalnation. Look it up and count how many twitter users should probably have restraining orders against them. Did I mention we’re slightly intense when it comes to baseball?

shelby miller pitching in bullpen

Anyway, one of my best friends is equally as obsessed with baseball as I am. We’ve been to two games this season together and spent our entire life savings on both games. Well, more or less. The first game we got tickets right on the 3rd baseline since her favorite player David Freese plays 3rd base. Aside from our catcher Yadier Molina, my favorite player is the pitcher Joe Kelly. So, of course, we had to go to a game where we could be near the bullpen. I ordered the tickets off some sketchy website… well, Stubhub… and it was row 11 directly behind the bullpen. I thought eh, 11 rows from it isn’t bad. We went to the game the other night and couldn’t find row 11, but it turns out we were looking in the wrong place. Know where our seats were? FIRST ROW FROM THE BULLPEN. WHAT. Not only were we right above the bullpen, but we were right beneath where they shoot off the fireworks. One of the Cardinals — Matt Carpenter — got a homerun, so it was pretty awesome/frightening/deafening to be right below them.

saint louis cardinals homerun

Since we were that close, we not only could hear the pitchers talking, but we could hear the lame ringtone for the bullpen phone. It sounded like a phone from the 90’s. I half expected it to be covered in denim and scrunchies and for a bleached blonde Justin Timberlake to answer it.

mott in busch stadium bullpen

It was one of the best baseball games I’ve ever been to. And the drunk guys next to us told us that we could be included in their inside joke, but we never actually found out what the joke was… Talk about a bummer.

busch stadium bullpen

Also, I’m pretty sure half of the MLB doesn’t speak English. A majority of our players sound like they’re speaking Google translator English. Just some last minute thoughts here.

Wonder why I’m not good with pets? Let me present Exhibit A:

It’s July 7th. That means that summer is half over. What have you been doing this summer? I’ve been watching way too much House, hanging out with fantastic people who are in my freshman class, and killing fish.

Wait, what?

So once upon a time, I decided it would be a good idea to get a fish. My roommate Emily and I thought it would be fun to have one in our dorm. Okay and by that I mean it was my idea to get a fish and all she said was, “…it’s going to die before we even get to college.” I wanted to prove her wrong, so I got one. We named it Harry and he lived on the bookshelf in my room. We even got Harry a trusty Asian sidekick statue named Ramen. Harry’s life was going just swimingly. *snicker* See what I did there? Yes, his life was wonderful… until I decided to take care of him.

The dumb fish wouldn’t eat. He’d eat the bubbles in his water, but wouldn’t eat the pellets unless they were crushed up, which was annoying to do. I took on the role of a loving mother and changed his water and tried not to tap the glass every time I walked by, but I didn’t give him too much attention. Then a few days ago he stopped swimming as much, and then he just sort of floated, and today he was lying at the bottom of the tank. I just assumed he liked sleeping there since it was closer to sea level. Less than two weeks after I paid a whole three bucks for him, poor Harry had kicked the can.

sad fish gravestone

I decided to bury him in the backyard. I wanted other people to be there when I buried him, but only two of my six siblings offered to join me. They were my seven year old sister Brute and four year old Corrupted Brother. Corrupted Brother decided that his full name needed to be Harry Under Fish, so we put that on the headstone/brick. Brute hummed the Storm Trooper theme song as I put him into the makeshift grave, and after placing some of the pebbles from his tank and some fish food with him, Corrupted Brother said “Sorry I gave you a dumb name, Harry.” and we said goodbye to him forever. The sad part is that I’m actually more upset that I have a bowl of nasty fish pee water in my room that I’m too lazy to dump out than I am that he’s gone. #priorities

Also, House is the greatest show to ever grace this planet. The end.

Bucket lists are overrated. But if I did have one, it might look something like this…

In case you were wondering, I need this:

But first I need this: a job. Since I don’t see myself getting a job this summer because I’m not about to waste three months of my life being around people who, knowing my luck, will suck the joy out of my summer, I’m not going to get my precious 1969 Camero RS. Maybe next summer…or in 20 years, since I don’t think a summer job working at Journeys shoe store will pay for that car.

So, since I don’t want to be just sitting around all summer watching reruns of Downton Abbey and eating junk food (although that sounds pretty dang awesome), I’ve decided to make a bucket list.

I’d like bucket lists if everyone wasn’t making them. It’s kind of like Damian McGinty. I loved that guy back when he first joined Celtic Thunder when he was 14, and then he went on Glee and my undying love for him plummeted. He’s too popular now and, frankly, isn’t as Damian McGorgeous as he used to be. So that was my comparison between bucket lists and Irish singers. Anyway, I’m hoping to accomplish most of these things:

Get my license, which might involve actually starting to drive. Does someone near by want to volunteer to take me out driving since my mom’s scared to be in the car with me…? Anybody?

Go to six flags and convince Emily to go on the Superman with me. Seriously Emily, it’s pretty much the most fantastic ride ever. And I’m pretty sure you won’t get hurt on it.

Hang out with my friends that are off to college (Dear Emily and Caroline, I never gave you permission to go to college this fall and get educated without me. Seriously. You’re making me sad.)

Go to the midnight premiere of Dark Knight Rises and drag random people along with me.

Have an 80’s themed 17th birthday party. Because the 80’s sounded awesome and I was born 15 years too late…

Finish stupid Great Expectations that I’ve been reading since January. That book will be the death of me. But it’s SO good.

Get these. I’M NOT OBSESSED.

Go to a concert (I’m hoping Honor Society comes back soon so I can talk to the drummer Alexander Noyes and say something more than “you’re awesome” like I did last winter. Awkward? Oh yeah and it’s Alex’s 26th birthday today. Happy birthday, Alexander Crawford Noyes. You’re still the coolest person I’ve ever met, which is saying a lot because I’ve also met Damian Kulash from the band OK Go and a guy who dressed up as superman and was standing outside of Busch stadium.)

Convince my mom to let me dye my hair red again. But not Carrot Top red like it was last summer. My hair last summer was a prime example of why you shouldn’t buy $10 hair dye from walgreens and then color your hair yourself.

Pull an all-nighter and have a movie marathon. And no Marie, I refuse to watch Sweeney Todd at 3am so don’t even suggest it.

I’ll probably think of more stuff later, but this is a good place to start. Oh, and I pretty much butchered the cookies I made tonight.

The recipe said to bake them for nine to eleven minutes and to make sure to not overcook them, but they still weren’t done after being in the oven for twenty minutes. Blahhh. So I decided to use them in a trifle-type dessert with strawberries and moose tracks ice cream.

I’m not sure what I’m going to do with the rest of the cookies…maybe use them as a base of a chocolate crust, kind of like a graham cracker crust? We’ll see. I know they would have worked with regular brownie mix, because I’ve used normal mix and they’ve turned out, but for some reason the dumb gluten free brownies decided to be a real pain in the patella.

As Pacman says, “Only you can prevent overcooked brownie cookies.” Although I might be confusing him with that bear with the really manly voice. Can Pacman actually talk…? Deep questions.

Brownie cookies

From the Food Network website

21 ounces brownie mix
1/2 cup all-purpose flour
6 tablespoons canola oil
2 eggs, beaten
2 tablespoons water
6 ounces semi-sweet chocolate chips

Preheat oven to 350°F

In a medium bowl, combine all ingredients. Stir until well blended.

Drop mix from a teaspoon onto a cookie sheet lightly sprayed with cooking spray. Bake for 9 to 11 minutes.

Once cookies have lost their gloss, yet still feel soft to the touch, remove from oven. Do NOT overbake them, or you’ll have to use them as hockey pucks.

Let cool 1 minute, then remove to racks to finish cooling. Store in airtight container for up to 1 week.