|Posted by Tara Bilby on April 7, 2013 at 8:30 PM||comments (0)|
Social Media sites start as one thing and turn into something completely different once they gain popularity. Take facebook for an example: it used to be a great place to connect with friends, now it is a great place to post pictures of a woman's uterus. The newest site that is beginning to change is instagram. Selfies have always been around, but Instagram has encouraged more of them recently. You can't get on instagram without seeing a selfie of someone. And then there's Snap Chat, which was basically created for selfies, especially the raunchier side of selfies. Believe it or not, selfies are changing the world. Thanks to selfies more pictures are taken in a bathroom then anywhere else. There are a lot of different types of people when it comes to selfies and I will list them below....
A Selfie Newbie: A new and confused person entering the world of Selfies..
The Ally Tucker's of the web: The Ally Tucker's of the web
hate despise selfies and will announce their disdain loud and proud.
That one dick would be someone who fits in this category.
The selfie taker who thinks a guy is going to be happy and turned on seeing 100 photos of her on their phone, most of these include cleavage. If it doesn't include cleavage, the guy will go from satisfied to annoyed very easily.
The Belieber: This group of people are very loyal Justin Beiber
fans stalkers. They do everything Justin does. If Justin takes a selfie... they better take a selfie too.
The duck face selfie: this category fits the majority of selfie photographers. The majority of women today believe that if they pucker their lips like a duck they become instantly more attractive.
A skill that they're teaching their babies...
The "I work out, have muscles, and think that taking a picture of me showing that will get me women" selfie:
Tip for guys: Selfie's like those above are not cute. Buy a puppy or something and use that as your prop, not your 10 pack abs.
The Drunk Selfie: doesn't need an explanation
Disclaimer: I'm not 100% sure the above girls were drunk when they took their selfies and posted it online... but I sure hope they were.
Selfies of "The Older Generation": These our elders, who have learned to embrace selfies the best way they can
Selfies have come and with the advancement of camera phones, selfies are here to stay. Get with the times. If the selfie of the grandmother and her granddaughter doesn't make the ally tucker's of the web appreciate the art of selfies, then nothing ever will.
|Posted by Kristen Geil on January 23, 2012 at 5:50 PM||comments (2)|
Hey guys! Before I get into blogging, I just wanted to say thanks to everyone who has been reading Ally and me on KSRCollege.com as well as downloading our Richmond Bramblett-produced podcast. We've had a lot of fun with each so far and we couldn't have scored these great gigs without you as fans!
On our podcast last night, Ally and I took turns interviewing each other with some wacky, yet revealing questions. Even after we had hung up on Skype and texted our goodnight emojis, I lay awake, thinking of other questions I wish we had asked each other. Some of my favorites revolved around songs and music that has been significant in our lives. Like, I wish I'd asked Ally what was the first song she'd ever slow-danced to. Or what song she wants played at her funeral. Or what her favorite Eminem song is (to get some constrasting perspective to the 50 Cent question).
A potential question I kept coming back to was "What song has changed your life?" There are a hundred serious, heartfelt answers to this question, but my honest answer is nowhere near that realm.
Let me set the scene. It was September of my freshman year of high school. After nine years of private Catholic school and all the restrictions that accompany such a lifestyle, I was fully enjoying wearing sweatpants to school and eating pizza dipped in ranch for lunch every day (I shudder at the memory).
In Lexington, and in my neighborhood specifically, THE event of the month in September is Oktoberfest. For one magical weekend, the Christ the King parking lot and playground are transformed into a veritable wonderland of carnival games, inflatable rides, face painting, and "Attic Treasures," aka a pretty shitty garage sale. I had enjoyed it immensely during middle school, and this year would be no exception.
After browsing the raffle items, winning absolutely no prizes, tackling a tricky inflatable obstacle course, and eating a hot dog, I left Oktoberfest with my friends Carden and Derek to head to Graeter's. (O! Graeter's! How I long for you) It was then that I heard it- the thumping bass, the gravelly "da dum, da da da da da dum," the abrupt train-conductor like whistle, and finally, those unforgettable words...
"Get Low" was the first time I had ever encountered the word crunk. It was the first time I had heard of the musical maven that is Lil Jon. It was the first time I had ever listened to a song that made me blush. Until then, my musical repetoire consisted of Backstreet Boys and BBMak. Upon hearing this song, I realized, "Oh my god. I'm a teenager now. I shall listen to crunk Southern hip hop and adopt it as my own."
I think I heard my mother's wail from six blocks away.
Yes, readers, "Get Low" is the song that changed my life. It marked my entry into adolesence, into being a disheveled teenager without a care in the world, save the record of UK men's basketball (hey, some things never change). Moreso, it was probably the first rap song I ever listened to, and I haven't stopped since. Remember my persuasive speech that 2pac is still alive? Wouldn't have written it without Lil Jon. The Watch the Throne tour I went to last month? Wouldn't have cared if I hadn't heard "Get Low." My appreciation of the anthem "All I Do Is Win?" Wouldn't be so close to my heart if Lil Jon and Luda hadn't collaborated on Usher's "YEAH!"
Although my tastes have changed over the years, I still find myself with an extra little wiggle in my step when "Get Low" comes on my Pandora station. I hit the thumbs up button, knowing that move will probably result in "Booty Wurk (Left Cheek Right Cheek)" playing immediately after. And I smile and silently thank Lil Jon for facilitating my journey into adulthood and enriching my life as a whole.
I bet that's a sentence you never thought you'd read.
|Posted by Ally Tucker on January 10, 2012 at 8:35 PM||comments (1)|
Oh U(r)sher, no need to be shy or pensive. We've been here before. Next to my diary (oh wait, that's Kristen), you are the one who knows the most about me. We've been through a lot, Ush. Maybe not as much as you and Chili, but in lieu of how things turned out between the two of you-- I'd like to think you feel closer to me than her.
Anyway, it's been a while but I think the time has come for another late night confession. I've got to be honest Ush, I'm more nervous about this confession than any before. I fear that you will pass judgment on me as a human being. With that said, if I can't tell you, than who can I tell?
Before anyone passes judgment, in my defense, I was only about 3 years old. Can any of us be held responsible for the things we did at the age of 3? If that were the case, I think it's fair to say we could all have reason to hate Suri Cruise for life for some of the ridiculous outfits she had worn by the age of 3.
I digress. Before I go any further, let me just say this now: Sarah MacLachlan, I am so, so, so sorry....
I'm not sure exactly where the appropriate place to start this confession is, but I feel the need to provide an ounce of background information on my family's history with pets. Actually, I really just need to tell you about one particular event in our family's history of pets. Before I confess, let me confess something about my older sister Colleen. When she was about 3 years old (see a pattern here?), she and my parents found two box turtles somewhere in the mystic wild (probably a pond, let's be honest). For reasons I'm unsure of, they decided that keeping these turtles as pets would be a good idea.
Some time shortly after the adoption of the two turtles into the family, my sister began a secret nightly routine that no one (my parents, who else does a 3 year old know?) knew about but her. Every night before going to bed, she would kiss the turtles goodnight. Box turtles are not known for being good kissers, but apparently they are known for carrying Salmonella.
Poor little Colleen nearly died she became so sick (glad you made it sis!) from the Salmonella. And as an apparent lasting side effect from the illness, she has an aversion to milk. Fun fact! You're welcome, readers.
Anyway, fast forward 3 years to my confession.
When I was 3 years old, I was an accomplice pretty damn active participant in a serious crime against animals. I'm not proud. Oh no, I am not proud. But I like to be truthful with Usher and my readers.
When I was 3 and my sister was probably 5 1/2, my parents decided it was time to try another pet after the whole turtle fiasco. They bought us two gerbils.
Those gerbils look innocent and sweet, happy to be snuggling together. Our 2 gerbils must have tired of the snuggling because within a few short weeks, they were expecting!
My memory is vague, so I don't remember how long it was before our 2 gerbils brought Ivy Blue and the rest of the gerbil brood into the world, but soon enough--they had arrived!
Baby gerbils are cute. Baby gerbils are fragile. I repeat, baby gerbils are fragile.
My parents, clearly remembering my sister's run in with the turtles, made it very clear to both of us that we were NOT TO TOUCH THE GERBILS! This message was sent very directly and very clearly to the both of us. We were not allowed to even open the cage. My parents were as serious about this rule as they could be. They explained to us that the gerbils were too fragile for us to play with until they grew older and stronger. We understood.
But you know what else we understood? That for approximately 10 minutes every morning, my Mom was busy in the kitchen making us breakfast. We had exactly 10 minutes to sneak around in the living room and play with the baby gerbils without her really noticing. So what did we do? We played with the baby gerbils for 10 minutes in the morning, doing our best to convince my Mom that she had no reason to look in the living room to monitor us. I honestly don't know how we got away with it.
One morning...shit got real.
Did I mention that I'm really, really sorry, Sarah MacLachlan?
Honest to goodness, my sister and I were just trying to play with the baby gerbils. They were so stinking cute after all. And the fact that we were banned from playing with them only made us want to do it that much more! We were 3 and 5! We didn't know. We didn't know!!!
Baby gerbils are fragile. Very, very fragile.
One of us picked one up by the middle and...well... let's just say we accidentally squeezed a little too hard. It was a tragic accident. I'm not sure that we were aware of what we had done though. We continued to play with the other gerbils, assuming that one was just lethargic.
My memory is a little vague but we were either trying to play catch with one or...well hell, I don't know why else we would have been throwing gerbils. Anyway, we missed the target on one and it flew over onto the corner of the rocking chair bottom. Ivy Blue, as I like to think she was named, was split down the middle.
Sometime minutes before the "Gerbil catch incident of '89," I had thought it would be a funny trick to put one of the gerbils in my Dad's shoe. How I didn't realize that this would end badly for the gerbil, and nauseating for my Dad, I will never know. I was 3!
Anyway, after the gerbil hit the rocking chair...reality began to set in and we realized that we had accidentally and tragically killed one of our baby gerbils. We were a mixture of sad and embarrassed. We weren't sure what to do and we certainly did not want to get caught.
Obviously it didn't take my parents very long to realize that some of the baby gerbils were missing from the cage. And when my Dad stepped on the one in his penny loafers (makes for a better story, yeah?), a moment I can only imagine he has tried to erase from his memory (sorry Dad!), the true damage had come to light.
I cannot stress to you enough how innocent in nature the whole morning was. Regardless of intent, we Jeffrey Dahmer-ed a handful of baby gerbils.
I am not sure I will ever be able to make amends for that tragic day, but I had to get it off my chest. RIP baby gerbils. Someday I will dedicate a book to you. No, seriously...I will.
And again, Sarah MacClachlan...please believe me when I say that I am sorry. The experience from all those years ago certainly doesn't make your commercial any easier to stomach...
** TUCKER'S TALES Spoiler Alert .... Our good friend Richmond has started a project where he produces podcasts. The Tucker's Tales duo of Kristen & Ally will be his first production. We will be recording a podcast in which we discuss all kinds of things (Tucker's Tales, our recent hiring on the KSR College staff, etc). We are recording this weekend and the podcast should be available soon after on Tucker's Tales for you to check it out. If it's any good, maybe we will do it on a regular basis. If it's terrible....we'll throw it in the pile of mistakes along with Celebrity Survivor.
|Posted by Kristen Geil on January 8, 2012 at 10:20 PM||comments (1)|
Hey friends. It's late Sunday night. I just made homemade pizza and I am watching Cupcake Wars. I am in my comfort zone and loving it. What better time to sit down with a shirtless Usher and have a heart to heart?
Tonight's Late Night Confession concerns a clothing item I've had since freshman year. No, not my Playboy Bunny sweatshirt- I just got that last year.
No, this blog is about one of the most hotly debated shoe genres of the millenium, loved or loathed by commoners and celebrities alike. I'm talking, of course, about UGGS.
These are the ones that I own, specifically. I bought them my freshman year of college because (and this is a little embarrassing) I just thought a pair of UGGS was one of those things all college girls had. I realize now, of course, that I was mistaken. Ally Tucker is probably groaning out loud at this point.
Anyway, I bought my UGGS (kids' sized, so I could get them on the cheap) and I'll be honest, I haven't looked back since. I've worn them the traditional way (with jeans), and I've worn them the college-sorority-girl way, with Nike shorts and a frat t-shirt (looking at you, Lily Griffin). I wear them around my apartment when my feet are cold. I wear them when I'm missing my mother and want something soft and cuddly to comfort me (no dogs allowed in my apartment, and my DeMarcus Cousins poster gives me paper cuts). I wear them because I LIKE THEM.
I understand all the reasons people hate UGGS. First of all, they are not stylish. Even- ESPECIALLY- the UGGS that consciously try to be glamorous.
These are as UGG-LY as the traditional boots (BA DOOM CCCHHH). Only girls under the age of ten may wear these and even then, they should be made aware of the potential consequences.
Secondly, people think it's okay to wear them with absolutely ANY article of clothing. The aforementioned Nike shorts and frat shirts, with formal dresses in the winter, or this--
Honestly, I think 99% of the reasons people hate UGGS have to do with Britney Spears being their unofficial spokesmodel.
And the name is ridiculous. UGGS? With randomly capitalized letters? Surely they could come up with something a little sexier than a synonym for sheepskin. And that also lends itself to wide-open puns.
But you know what? I don't care. If my UGGS aren't stylish, at least they are unobtrusive (more so than Becky Goncharoff's UGGS, which are knee high and metallic gold). If I wear them with shorts and a t-shirt, confusing my body about what the weather is outside, at least my constantly-cold feet are swaddled in sheepskin. If the name UGGS sucks, at least I can easily make a witty joke by saying "UGGGHHH, my UGGS are so dirty from the snow." If my UGGS look gross because they are so dirty from the snow, at least it's from living in a legitimately cold weather city rather than Lexington.
And above all else, if I shamelessly love my UGGS...
At least I don't own Crocs.
|Posted by Kristen Geil on January 2, 2012 at 11:20 PM||comments (0)|
Allow me to introduce myself- my name is Kristen Geil. I'm a 22 year old graduate student and a lifelong Lexingtonian- and because of that, a lifelong UK fan.
Some important facts about me: "All I Do Is Win" is the sixth most played song on my iPod. I recently bought the lifesize DeMarcus Cousins poster on eBay. I called in sick to work last Saturday so that I could watch the UK-UL game and got to the bar at 9:05 am to ensure seating. The best moment of my life was the post-buzzer beer shower at TIn Roof after UK beat UNC to go to the FInal Four last March. I've been a KSR Fan of the Day three times, and last April Fool's Day, my friends and I put jorts on The Lex's "walking man."
Did I mention it was monsooning and freezing? Because it was.
But most importantly, I should be one of your interns.
For as long as I can remember, I've wanted to be a writer, preferably in the sports, entertainment, or lifestyle sectors. My childhood diaries are filled with overdramatic ramblings and musings. In high school, I sent Mark Story a list of reasons UK basketball could be used to teach concepts in my AP English class- and got published in the Herald-Leader. In college, my friend Ally Tucker and I started this very blog for our friends and families to enjoy our smart-ass sense of humor- and managed to get 25,000 viewers in its first year.
(Figured it couldn't hurt to appeal to Drew Franklin and our mutual love of Watch the Throne).
Although our blog started off as a "just for fun" hobby, it quickly showed me that writing is one of my true passions. Sitting down to craft a blog entry isn't a chore. Sure, some days it's a challenge, but I love the feeling I get when an acquaintance comes up to me at a grocery store and tells me that my latest rhetorical analysis of Jay Bilas's "I Gotta Go To Work" tweet made them cry from laughing, or that they made a UK playlist on their iPod after reading my suggestions. We've even gotten some celebrity recognition through Twitter- Mary Jo Perino and Josh Hopkins are blog fans. Not to pull a Chane Behanan, but I'm a strong writer with a unique voice, and I know I could write posts that would appeal to your readership. Point blank. Period.
I know, I know, you guys are already thinking, "When can we hire this girl?" Okay, here's where it gets sticky. So... I currently live in Chicago.
That's also how I felt when I read the post advertising intern spots and realized that I was disqualified by not living in Central KY. But then I thought to myself, What Would Michael Kidd-Gilchrist Do? He wouldn't give up, that's for sure. The way I see it, if you like my writing enough, we'll find a way to work it out. There are lots of possibilities for a relationship much longer and more fulfilling than that of Rick Pitino and Karen Sypher. I'm currently at DePaul getting my Master's in Writing, Rhetoric, and Discourse, and as a grad student, my schedule is pretty flexible (class/grad assistantship on all day Mondays/Tuesdays, Wednesdays until 12:30; free the rest of the time, allowing for lots of blogging or even traveling time!). My Winter Quarter lasts until March 27th and I have a job lined up for this summer. The time in between and after, well, that's negotiable, and I'm hopeful you would keep my application on hand should you have an assignment for me.
Maybe you want a correspondent to give an ex-pat view on the state of UK sports (similar to my official writing sample submission for this position)- I can do that. Want to expand the KSR blog into Tumblr? I'm your girl. Perhaps Ms. Tyler Thompson is tired of the tweet beat- I'm happy to take over. I'd even be willing to tackle the daunting task of teaching Eloy Vargas the ins and outs of correct Twitter grammar and spelling. There's lots of dirty work out there, but somebody's got to do it- and I hear that's what interns are for.
So, in conclusion, pick me. Choose me. Love me. Or at the very least, read my writing sample (and maybe even some of my other blog posts that I have thoughtfully linked in this cover letter and the writing sample) and have a chuckle. This could be the start of a beautiful friendship, guys.
Love and Basketball,
|Posted by Ally Tucker on January 2, 2012 at 12:55 AM||comments (0)|
--> Find out why my sister calls me Lettuce (Background: Before I was born, my sister wanted my parents to name me "Lettuce." Instead of accepting that they in fact did not name me Lettuce, she refused to call me by any other name for years. Ironically, I now hate salad. Coincidence? I think not!)
|Posted by Ally Tucker on January 1, 2012 at 10:40 PM||comments (1)|
|Posted by Kristen Geil on December 22, 2011 at 1:40 AM||comments (0)|
Remember when I had an imaginary twin that wrote in my diary? That was weird. Remember when Ally worked at Eastern State and a patient told her that she wished Ally would have dinosaur babies? That was weird too. But Monday Night Karaoke- Holiday Edition, topped all of that weirdness, and then some.
This MNK rendezvouz had been weeks in the making. Ally and I wanted our families to meet and create a mega-family, and MNK seemed like the perfect meeting point. On the drive over to Chinoe Pub, we passed a lone pedestrian wearing a Santa hat and a dress. Little did we know, it was our good friend Amy tromping over to join us at MNK. That's dedication.
Basically, this night can be broken up into Family Time and Weird Time.
PART ONE: FAMILY TIME
We arrived around 8 pm to claim our tables and have a drink and snacks before. Eva, our frosty-turned-friendly bartender, greeted me with alternating excitement and admonishment for not showing up for a few months. I told her I had moved to Chicago, but that didn't seem to be a sufficient reason for her. She also informed us that we had missed the Chinoe Pub holiday party, which had been held the night before and featured "free everything!" We are forever regretful that we missed it. Next year, folks. Next year. We were saddened to hear that Kenny McKenny hadn't shown up for a few weeks. In fact, Eva informed us that the next day, they were going to call him and make sure he was okay. Keep him in your thoughts, guys.
The DJ showed up and brought out the books, and with that, there was a flurry of napkin-writing and songsheet flipping to sign up for our favorites. Ally started the night off correctly with her go-to number "The Lion Sleeps Tonight." Always the crowd pleaser, parents and sisters alike were delighted by her enthusiastic sound effects. I jumped in with the Full House Theme Song, which I am starting to believe is my signature number- I don't hate it.
Immediately afterwards, however, we came down from our karaoke high after being forced to hear a horrible rendition of Katy Perry's Hot N Cold. I mean it. It was probably the WORST karaoke song I have ever experienced, and this includes Sarah McLeod and "Benny and the Jets." This woman simply could not carry a tune, and often resorted to spoken-word karaoke rather than singing. My ears died a little bit.
Luckily, Ally and her sister, Colleen, stepped back up to the plate with a sister duet- "We Belong." My sister and I counteracted with Shania Twain's "Man, I Feel Like A Woman," a song that held many childhood memories for us. It's hard to say which Sister Act came out on top, but it's actually probably irrelevant, because Amy and I followed it up with the crowd favorite of "Camel Toe." It made my mother cry, and I'm not sure I'm proud of that. We were a little out of practice and found ourselves giggling through much of the lyrics, but the crowd was into it and we got a solid round of applause at the end.
Colleen sang the Lisa Loeb one-hit wonder "Stay," showing off her karaoke chops that have made her famous in the Louisville karaoke scene. Her fiance, Ty, however, stole the show with his performance of LL Cool J's "Mama Said Knock You Out." Ty rapped with gusto, using some strange accent that I can't place and slightly threatening hand gestures, even going so far as to point directly at the DJ while saying "MAMA SAID KNOCK YOU OUT!" It was the surprise hit of the night, seconded only by perhaps me and Ally's moms teaming up to sing "Barbara Ann" with each other. Precious moments, precious dance moves, precious everything. Way to go moms!
By that time, Ally's family was looking to head home to Louisville, so Ally closed their night out by serenading her parents with Josh Groban's "You Raise Me Up" while they slow-danced on the dance floor. They might have cried, making my "Camel Toe" performance even more despicable. Thanks, Tucker.
Other performances included me and Rachel singing "All Star," Sarah and I singing "Independent Woman," Ally and I singing "Dilemma," and Amy and Ally singing Meredith's Brooks "Bitch." Demetri showed up and sang a slow jam, serenading my sister and my mom. Every so often he changed up the lyrics, interjecting "Don't do pills!" at random places- good advice for the ages, I suppose, but overall Demetri behaved himself. Family Night and Weird started to overlap when Ally and I sang the Bon Jovi classic "Living on a Prayer" while a blonde woman stripped on the dance floor. As in, danced provocatively by herself and lifted up her sweater to flash our table. At that point, my mom and my sister left- probably for the better- and the night became full on weird.
PART TWO: WEIRD TIME
Honestly, it's hard to even know how to describe this part of the night. Ally and Sarah sang Little Drummer Boy, which was maybe not the best choice of karaoke song, but apparently our blonde friend thought so because she flashed her G-string, complete with charms on it (didn't know those existed).
However, I think weird time actually started when a band of frat bros came in to celebrate a few birthdays. They rushed the bar and in their excitement, accidentally drank a pitcher that appeared abandoned on a booth table (the patrons were actually just outside smoking- an honest mistake by the bros). Well, the DJ was not amused, and she called them out over the microphone, yelling at them to "MAKE IT RIGHT!" which they did. Soon after, however, a bro spilled beer on the dance floor and didn't clean it up. Maybe I'm wrong, but I think this happens often at bars. I guess the DJ had never seen that behavior before though, because she interrupted Sarah and Ally's "WE ARE THE CHAMPIONS" to again yell into the microphone, proclaiming "THIS IS OUR HOUSE AND DON'T YOU DISRESPECT IT!" while having someone bring the poor guy a mop to clean up his mess. It was simultaneously uncomfortable and hilarious. I still can't believe the DJ had the nerve to interrupt Sarah and Ally's hit song.
One of the bros signed up to rap Jay Z's "Give It To Me," which, if you've never heard it before, has slightly raunchy lyrics. Well, ol' DJ gave them the dirty eye every time they didn't bleep out any bad words. Demetri asked me to dance, and we had the pleasure of dancing next to a girl a lot drunker than anyone else grinding up on the bro who was rapping. I said to Demetri, "I'm not going to dance like that." Unexpectedly, he responded "Girl I know. I know a lady when I see one." At the end of the dance, he kissed me on the cheek and inquired about how my graduate program was going up in Chicago. What a gentleman! Sarah and Jeremy sang Summer Loving, with the parts switched so that Sarah was the guy and Jeremy was the girl- always fun.
After we parted ways on the dance floor, Demetri headed up to the stage to sing "Man in the Mirror" by Michael Jackson. We were apprehensive about this because Man in the Mirror is a trickier karaoke song than one might think. Demetri nailed it. The whole bar was up and dancing, singing our hearts out, and I can honestly say I felt united with Chinoe Pub's patrons. A kindred spirit was in the air, and it was magical. Thank you, Demetri.
We were about to leave, when I realized that I had one more song coming up. It was one of my favorite karaoke songs- "Bust A Move" by Young MC. I hate to brag, but it really got the crowd up on its feet. Everyone was dancing and singing along, but perhaps my favorite visual was Ally dancing with one of the bros. When I say dancing, I mean old school, waltzy, classic dancing. The boy kept yelling at her, "JUST LET ME LEAD!" while Ally would respond "I don't know what I'm doing!" with a bewildered look on her face.
The night ended with Sarah singing "Genie in a Bottle," and a bro closing down the bar with "Stronger" by Kanye West, with some freestyle verses thrown in there. It was a sight to see, and I honestly do not feel like I have done the weirdness justice in this blog entry. For that, I apologize, but you just need to see it in person. Monday Night Karaoke > Monday Night Football, or anything else. Come one, come all.
|Posted by Kristen Geil on December 12, 2011 at 6:35 PM||comments (0)|
Hey there Ursher, long time no see.
I suppose my prelude confession should be that we have been slacking on blogging lately. Sorry, fans.
On to the good stuff. This is a true life story that happened to me last month. We all knew that moving to the big city would invite new, amusing hijinks into my already ridiculous life. However, I must admit this one took me by surprise.
It started off innocently enough. This October, I had one week where I was the most scatterbrained I have ever been in my entire life. I lost my wallet in a taxi, I lost a $20 bill out of my pocket on the street, and I left my phone in my locker at work one night. Upon realizing this last one, I made the decision to go for an early run to my place of employment, figuring I would kill two birds with one stone by A) jump-starting my metabolism early in the morning, and B) getting my phone back.
You know that saying- the best laid plans of mice and men? Yup. Totally true.
It was pretty early when I went to get my phone, and still chilly outside, which prompted my fatal mistake- grabbing a sweatshirt to wear on my way out the door. People, I NEVER run or work out in long sleeves or sweatshirts unless it's FREEZING. I hate it. I think it's uncomfortable and you get way too sweaty and it's annoying to carry your extra article of clothing around after you inevitably decide to discard it. It just doesn't work for me.
But it was early. And I was cold. And I was only going to be running for about 15 minutes total. So, I grabbed an old Delta sweatshirt that I hadn't worn in a hot minute from the back of my closet. In fact, I don't think I had worn it since I moved to Chicago. This becomes relevant later on.
I left my apartment and started jogging towards work. I live in downtown Chicago, the nice area right off Michigan Avenue known as "Gold Coast" neighborhood. My route took me past posh apartment buildings, designer clothing boutiques, and just general wealth (sorry if that sounds douchey, but it's true). There weren't very many people out yet, but the dog walkers were up and walking.
This is not an exaggeration.
About a block from work, I felt it. Something was moving around inside my sweatshirt. I ignored it, figured the sweatshirt had gotten bunched up in all my moving and shaking. I was wrong. Right in the middle of a rousing chorus of "Living On A Prayer," amongst all the wealth and class and glamour, I had the odd sensation that something had fallen out of my sweatshirt. Baffled, I stopped my stride to turn around and walk back a few steps to investigate, and there they were in the middle of the sidewalk.
That's right, underpants. I was immediately mortified. MORTIFIED. I did the glance-around, and honestly I don't think anyone saw me. So I did the unthinkable, the only thing that made sense in the moment- I sprinted the hell away.
Usain Bolt had NOTHING on me in that moment.
I made it to work, retrieved my phone, and went home the same way I came- because I have no shame and because I was still in a confused daze about what had just happened. Upon passing the underwear on the street, I had an even more horrific realization.
That wasn't my underwear. I had never seen that underwear before in my life. It was mystery underwear.
I've had plenty of time to ruminate since this incident, and I have only been able to come up with one possible explanation. It was my sister's fault.
But seriously. I had been living at home the last time that sweatshirt had been washed, and Rachel and I throw our laundry in together every so often. I have a bad habit of forgetting to use a dryer sheet, so most of my clothes are static-y and stuck together. It's completely conceivable that The Prodigy's underwear got stuck in the folds of my sweatshirt and went unnoticed for weeks. Because I SWEAR, that WAS NOT my underwear on that sidewalk.
And for all those wondering, I have no idea what happened to the underwear. I walked by the scene of the crime a few days later, and it was gone. Although I am deeply ashamed that I left it there for a city cleaner or a homeless person to deal with, I do take solace in the fact that the underwear was at least clean.
That's my late night confession- one of the most embarrassing moments in recent history. As always, Usher, let's keep this between us- pillow talk.
|Posted by Kristen Geil on October 27, 2011 at 4:25 PM||comments (1)|
Lately, when people hear that I am pursuing a Master's degree in Writing, Rhetoric, and Discourse, I get the same question over and over again:
"What do you want to be when you grow up?"
Well, a Pussycat Doll, obviously.
But seriously, I have a list of potential careers that if I ever got, I would consider myself to be "living the dream." In an effort to distract myself from schoolwork and the fact that I don't really know how doing this schoolwork will help me find a career, here is a list of the top jobs I hope to have in my lifetime:
Usher at Rupp Arena
No, not the Usher we love and praise so regularly on the blog...
But we still <3 you!!!
No, I'm talking about the real deal. The ushers for UK basketball games at Rupp Arena. You know them- maybe one of them is even your grandparent. They heroically stand in the aisles and point you towards your seat.
Or, as a friend from work so eloquently put it, "The elderly, blue-blazored Gestapo of Rupp Arena are the most dedicated employees in the nation. Keep guarding that empty section boys. Like your 65 year old lives depended on it." I liked it immediately.
Try as hard as I might, I could NOT find a picture of these people anywhere online. So here, a picture of Big Sean in a blue blazer:
Also, for those of you who are interested in this as a future career, I found this job information on Rupp Arena's website:
EVENT USHERS - (50 Part-Time Positions Available)
Job involves ticket taking, seating patrons, pre-event/post-event building/arena security, and traffic/parking control before and after events, and providing related guest services. High School Diploma or GED.
Email a current resume to firstname.lastname@example.org
Visit the HR Department between 9:00 a.m.-5:00 p.m. Monday-Friday to complete and submit an employment application; (The HR Department is located on the 2nd level of the Civic Center Shops)
Download and complete a blank employment application from the company's website
Completed applications can be mailed or brought to the HR Department
Human Resources Department
Lexington Center Corporation
430 West Vine Street
Lexington, KY 40507
So there you go. Dreams can come true.
National Geographic Photographer
Seriously, who HASN'T wanted this job? You get to travel the world, hear all sorts of cool stories, get up close and personal with wild animals, perhaps even have your photograph featured as a screensaver on computers around the world. On my general life "to do" list is take photography classes. Maybe it would help class this blog up a bit.
Top Chef Judge
I wouldn't even be picky about whether I was a judge on classic Top Chef or Top Chef: Just Desserts. Just get me at some food!! I can throw around buzzwords just as well as Tom Colicchio- "heavy handed with the salt," "a little under-seasoned," "the texture was just completely unappetizing." I can be snooty and judgmental too! I also have good table manners, which is a really under-appreciated skill these days.
Also, I would like to hang out with Padma in hopes that her beauty rubs off on me.
VH1 Talking Head
You've read the blog- you know Ally and I have lots of scathing commentary on contemporary (and past) pop culture. What better way to use these talents than to be a regular on VH1's "Best Songs of the 00s"?
And seriously, where has Best Week Ever gone?? It was the most consistent source of news in my life.
Usher's backup dancer
Because really, did you expect us to get through a blog without mentioning Usher... twice?
I have no shame about this. My greatest regret is that I quit dance before I got a chance to be any good at it, for real. Having the chance to travel with Usher, dance every night, get an amazing body, build my leather wardrobe, and possibly be impregnated by Usher himself? What's not to love?
Crossword Puzzle Creator
Anyone who knows me knows I love doing the crossword. It's a great joy in my life. When Ally suggested this, she specified for entertainment magazines like US Weekly or People. That would be fun... but seriously, I have so much respect for the people who create the New York Times crosswords each day. They have to be so damn clever. Some days towards the end of the week (when the crossword gets progressively harder), I literally find myself shaking my fist at these imaginary people and cursing them for being so witty. Yup. I want to be one of them.
Side notes: Potential Christmas gift that I've always wanted but never gotten- the giant wall crossword from Sky Mall magazine. (MOM)
Also, would anyone like to go to a crossword convention with me someday? No joke. HMU!
Jay Z and Beyonce's Nanny
I'm going to constantly search for them on Sitty City.com and Nannies Inc until I find them. Then, I will convince them that I am the best babysitter ever and I am completely fit and competent to take care of their little bundle of love. I would totally fit into their family.
(This is his Facebook profile picture)
Because as Ally Tucker puts it, "Really, what does he do all day?" Besides make angry phone calls in Farsei and churn it out on the Elliptical while watching Family Feud... not much.