What's that from? "What the fuck?"

So I had to get sick (and consequently lose my voice)...

• 2 days before I'm accompanying at a concert
• 3 days before I have to give my senior oratorical speech
• 4 days before I leave for France

What. The. Fuck.

Seriously.

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Trust me, I know some groundhogs.

Just when all of us New Englanders were starting to think that maybe, just maybe we would have a short winter despite Punxsutawney Phil's prediction, Mother Nature had to prove those dumb groundhogs right.
While being snowed in yesterday, I watched the Olympics with the fam, who have been watching religiously since day 1, and I have to say that I'm strangely attracted to Shaun White, dubbed by the Italians: "the flying tomato". Yeah, okay, if tomatos exude hottness with the heat of a thousand thermal detonators.

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College Update

As of right now I've been accepted to URI, UNH and Memorial University of Newfoundland. I'm still waiting to hear from Boston University and McGill.
I did some research today on Memorial and the city of St. John's (where Memorial U is located) and apparently St. John's is the Canadian equivalent of Seattle, weather-wise. Also, it is a 31 hour drive or a $400 plane ticket away from here. The option of coming home to do my laundry is...well...not an option.
Not that it is for any of my schools that I might attend. I really, really, don't want to go to URI. And the more I think about UNH, the less appealing it becomes. It just seemed too quiet for me, and far too isolated. At least St. John's is a city, albeit a foggy, rainy, windy, snowy one.
Also, a fun fact: George Street in St. John's has the most bars per square foot than any other street in North America. And the drinking age in Canada is 18.

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Shopping- a roller coaster ride of emotions

Strawberries, in its collection of a bazillion movies, does not have the two films I want. A Room With a View is way too deep and British for anyone in this small town to know about and god forbid someone gets sick of 10 Things I Hate About You and sells it back to the store (Hell no, I'm not paying full price!).

However, I bought a beautiful scarf at Target, favoritest of favorites, storest of stores. At least, I think it's a scarf. I'm not quite sure. It's at least 5 feet long, white, stretchy, and part of it is braided. Yes. The ends are braided so it looks like I have some kind of holy, sexy whip hanging from my head. Now that I think about it, it's pretty strange. But you can't be held responsible for who (or what) you fall in love with, can you?

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I do love me some PBS

Nick and I finally get a moment alone together and what do we do? Do we stick our tongues down each others throats? Do we tear off our clothes and have wild, crazy sex? No. We turn on public television and watch Andre Rieu, live from Holland.
You cannot tell me that normal seventeen year olds do this.

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In retrospect...

Mom: I have advice: if your hair starts getting gray at 40, dye it.
Me: Uhm. Okay.
Dad: And I have advice too. If you start getting fat at 40, dye it.

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Yummy

Meredith: I've had Ovaltine before; it tastes like diarrhea in a cup. And I didn't ask my mom for more.

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