Squeaky's Undisclosed Location

Home of the only Left-Handed, Jewish, Cherokee Girl in the Dirty South

Monday, August 29, 2005

Split Opinions: Dusty vs. Myself

Reactions to a Magazine Picture of Gael Garcia Bernal

Me (inner monologue): Wow, he is so attractive. I love his eyes. I love his hair; it looks so thick. I read he speaks, like, five different languages. He's such a good actor, too. When I watched Motorcycle Diaries I actually thought he was Che for a second. Seriously, he almost made me a communist. Gee, he seems so smart. Wow. See, I need to find a guy like him. I'm sick of all these stupid, immature Nathans, Aarons, and Alexes, around here. Oh man, Gael, where are you?

Dusty, older sister (spoken comment): Ew, who is that? He's really ugly.

Tuesday, August 23, 2005

My Love-Affair with Cleats May Have Come to an Untimely End

5:32 - Arrive two minutes late for first soccer practice with new team. Hop out of car. Approach Cute Coach.

5:33- Cute Coach stares at my fairly new, comfortable, lovable gray Adidas cleats with flip down tongue and rap around laces (non-removable spikes) now molded to my foot. Cute Coach asks, "Do you have running shoes?" Reply, "No." Cute Coach sighs, "Oh well, we'll be running on the street today. Sorry."

5:45- Team begins slow jog on street. Cleats bang harshly on the asphalt. Teammates jog softly and silently.

5:50- Can feel spikes deteriorating from my cleats with every step upon the barren asphalt desert.

5:55- Car slowly passes. Driver and passenger are young, attractive guys with black do-rags. Passenger whistles. Still undetermined what is attractive about red-faced, sweaty pale white girls with ugly farmers' tans and nasty frizzy hair from humidity.

6:00- Hear faint noise.

6:10- Determine source of noise. Noise coming from cleats. Cleats are crying.

6:15- Cleats continue to cry. Nothing can be done to ease their suffering.

6:17- From the sobs, "Sqeaky, how could you do this to us?" "Oh why, oh why would you betray us?" "What have we done to deserve this?" can be heard.

6:20- Jog complete. Cute Coach authorizes water break. Upon examination of spikes, horrific results have surfaced. Once beautiful, pristine spikes, now bear scars of the asphalt jog.

7:15- In car, riding back to house. Cradling cleats in hand. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. It wasn't my choice. I was forced, forced. Please forgive me cleats. " Pets left shoe.

7:35- Gently brushes mud from cleats. Extra sensitive touch around spikes. Apologizes again. Cleats don't respond. Cries inside.

Will cleats ever forgive me? Time will only tell.

Wednesday, August 17, 2005

The Great Vowel Shift and Other Life Essentials

My summer break has finally come to a close. No more moving/packing/drinking-in-Germany for me, no sirree. It's time for me to get my nose to the grindstone. It's time for me to concentrate on what matters in life: graphing inequalities, discussing the Fundamental Orders of Connecticut and the impact it had on the Constitution, and realizing how much "The Great Vowel Shift" transformed the English language.

Now if you'll excuse me, non-existant reader, I have to go write notes on Puritan Massachussets.