More vapid ramblings.

9/1/09

Well, I’m safely back in the US of A. Unfortunately that means I’m not legal anymore, and had to pass up the duty free liquor deals in the airport. Oh Absolut vanilla…my dear dear friend…

The seventeen hours of traveling back to the states wasn’t too horrible. A couple of the Drexel girls started bawling once we were in the air, and I congratulated myself on my stoic appearance and steel resolution. That was until I started watching Star Trek, and cried when Kirk’s father bravely piloted his ship into the Romulans. Those bastards, leave the Enterprise alone. Any movie that casts Harold from Harold and Kumar in a serious role, and resurrects Leonard Nimoys’ career gets an A+ in my book. Afterwards, I watched Mulan and realized I am going to die alone. Probably surrounded by cats, which is going to be especially painful considering how allergic I am to pet dander.

I had to say goodbye to everyone at baggage claim, and then got to wait another three hours for my connecting flight back to good old Bean Town. I was quite excited to be able to turn on my precious Juke again, as I hadn’t had a decent phone for the entire summer, or even a phone at all for the past week. The bastard Orange phone I was forced to purchase died an honorable death in Dublin. A girl on my trip ended up dumping her pint on the table, and the poor thing drowned in Guinness. I was glad I risked it and decided not to “top up” (add minutes) right before I left Britain. Do I really need to fuel my drunk texting problem? No, those horrible decisions are restricted to my American phone.

I’m pretty sure everyone in the immediate area hated me for talking on said Juke, but Tasia had just acquired a new bread maker and I’m buying Snow Leopard off of him. How can I be an elitist bitch when I haven’t upgraded my Mac? The rents kept their word and actually picked me up from the airport, and I wasn’t forced to hitchhike back to Sharon. A decision I’m pretty sure they regret now.

I’m supposed to be finishing up my work for the term (Three essays? What the W?) but instead I went outlet shopping with Anj because it’s our damn Patriotic duty to help America out of this recession. The stores were sparse to say the least, either nothing was on sale (what kind of welcome back was that J Crew? Huh?) or everything was complete shit and thrown into discount bins. (Arden B, shame on you) BCBG had bastardized itself by throwing together all of its brands into one store and Saks wouldn’t give me a discount on a dress even though it was stained and a button was falling off. They told me to wash it and sow the button back on. I stared at the saleswoman for a good twenty seconds before it registered this wasn’t a joke and they were indeed serious. My friends, we have reentered the dark ages.