Peppermint tea and APDA expense forms...

Well, it's that time of year again... time to wrest our annual American Parliamentary Debate Association dues from the grimy hands of Student Activities. Actually, that time of year was back in November, and APDA has smacked us with a very deserved $30 in late fees. What does this mean? This means that I am in my element -- scrambling to set right what procrastination has set so very, very wrong.

Last night I rearranged my room. You can see not only the floor, not only the surface of the desk, but the surface of my vanity -- all of which have been entirely obscured since late December. You don't believe me? Here, I can prove it.

Here you can see my stability ball, or, as I prefer to call it, my enlightened chair. Yes, I did indeed start the craze that is now sweeping AU... and by sweeping, I mean that Ash and Rachel have them too. Their growing popularity is due in part to their variety of advantages over their more ubiquitous wooden cousins; they can be used as A) dorm soccer balls, B) weapons of mass destruction, and C) awesome things to bounce on.

You can also see my bedspread. There's an interesting story behind that bedspread. From the time of, well, birth, until about third grade, instead of sucking my thumb, I sucked on my left index and middle finger. My parents promised that if I stopped, I could have a fish. Around third grade, I fell off my bike and broke my left arm, and after about two weeks of having me lift increasingly heavy objects to "heal that pulled muscle," my mom admitted that there was something serious wrong and took me to a doctor, who put a cast on my arm. The new lack of mobility made it hard for me to engage in my finger-sucking, and I quit out of necessity.

You'd think that my parents would give me my friggin' fish, but no; they made the cunning argument that "the cat would eat it" and conned me into getting a fish bedspread instead. But I'm not bitter anymore, because the bedspread has lasted a lot longer than the fish would have.

As I headed out the door this morning, I glanced at my bag, thought, "Do I want my cell phone?" and countered it with the consideration, "Do I want my cell phone to ring in the middle of class?" Concluding that I did, in fact, not, I left without picking up my phone. Imagine my surprise, then, when -- in the middle of a class I have to blue card into -- I heard the immortal screech of "STEALTH PEOPLE, BA-DA-DA!" which, if you've never heard it, is a voice recording of Crystal and I screaming into my phone, and serves as her ringer. My rabid scrambling to find the phone -- which, by the way, I'd accidentally left in my bag the night before -- probably amused a few students, but I doubt that my Micro professor was a fan.

On a much less humorous note, I owe it to my female friends to link to this article on the correlation between bras and breast cancer. Speaking as a woman who's likely to carry on the family tradition of contracting the disease, it's worth reading.

I always knew big business had it out for me.

As it happens, the north side bus stop is right beside Kogod, the AU business building. Thus, during the particularly cold fifteen minute waits, frozen AU students often take shelter in Kogod and wait until the bus comes into view.

The day before yesterday, Roz and I were headed to Georgetown, but because she had spilled water in her tennis shoes, she was wearing a pair of my sandals and freezing to death. We went into Kogod, where a newspaper was lodged in between the doors, creating a thin opening through which the wind wailed freely. We decided to move the newspaper so the doors would, you know, actually close, as is their function.

A few moments later, the bus rolled past. We opened the door to leave. Or, more accurately, tried to. Yes, dear readers, it seems that the newspaper was there to keep the doors from locking... and that we were trapped in Kogod. We raced to the front of the building, only to find that those doors were locked too.

Welcome to hell, ladies and gentlemen.

Eventually someone informed us that if we held down the red exit button, the door would open. Of course, the bus was gone by then. We opted to wait in the freezing cold rather than risk the wrath of Kogod again.

On another note, people have no idea what "vegan" means (not eating any animal products). It shouldn't surprise me. After all, vegans aren't exactly common. When Roz and I went in search of dessert on the night before last, we had the following conversation with an waiter at Amma's Indian Vegetarian Kitchen, after looking over Indian desserts that left us at a loss:

Kat: Hey. We're vegan (not entirely true -- actually, Roz is vegan and I'm kind of trying it out again). Um, I have no idea what these desserts are... are, um, any of them vegan?
Waiter: Ahhh, yes, yes, all vegan!
Roz: *unable to believe their good luck* No milk or eggs?
Waiter: Yes! All milk!
Kat: Um, there is or isn't milk?
Waiter: All have milk!
Kat: Err... sorry.
*We leave*

We had a similar exchange at the Prince in Georgetown; I finally settled for an Icee and some Sour Path Kids at the theater. But we learned from our mistakes, and last night we picked up a vegan dessert at Whole Foods. It was yummy.

I now have two new cookbooks... *plots cooking goodness*

A Brief Summary of Kat's Winter Break

Mm, Christmas. It was a good time. But the real fun started on the Friday before New Years', when Crystal and I went up to Virginia to go to my very first real "club": Peabody's. I danced. It took a good bit of convincing from Crystal, but finally she was dragged out on the floor by a rather creepy guy, and I had to go make sure she didn't get molested, and that required dancing. According to Crystal, whose word I don't entirely trust, I looked good. However, in my personal estimation, I probably looked like a dying bat trying desperately to flap my way into the air. Or possibly a wounded kangaroo trying to jump.

That said... who's up for Lulu's?

Early on New Years' Eve, Crystal and I drove down to Avon, where we spent a blissfully unsupervised week of debauchery. By debauchery, I of course mean staying up until 4 AM and getting up at about 3 PM. It was glorious. I also made a lot, and I do mean a lot, of hemp. Here's a small fraction of the week's yields:

I'm particularly proud of the shell chokers, because those are shells I picked up at the beach in Avon and I love the way they turned out.

On New Years' day, we went to the beach at sunset, and it was one of the most gorgeous sunsets I've ever seen. There were dolphins playing just beyond the waves. I ran into the water despite the fact that the ocean was about forty degrees. In fact, I did that pretty much every time we went to the beach.

One night around ten, we realized that we had no food in the house and went to Food Lion. We proceeded to get checked out by about five men of Hispanic origin. After they turned corners to ogle us, Crystal started getting angry, while I remained amused. However, after we paid and headed out to our car, the wolf whistles started.

I pulled the car around to drive by, and they waited until we were almost past and whistled loudly. At that point, we decided that we were rebelling against the objectification of women. I threw the car in reverse, rolled down the window, and yelled, in Spanish, "Do you have something to say to us?"

Cue shock. The guy at the front froze, shook his head, and muttered, "No, no, no."

We drove off. And they followed us. We stopped at a gas station; they stopped at the gas station. I drove into the residential area, parked in someone's driveway, and waited until they drove past to go home.

Well, there you have the highlights. Apart from nights spent in the bowling alley/pool hall, there's little else I remember. Now I'm back at AU, hanging out with Roz, and watching more Boy Meets World than you can shake a stick at.

Soon the laziness of winter break is going to be over... but until then, I'm going to glory in it.