¿donde esta la bibliotech?

I miss my muffin!

For your pleasure and enjoyment, a picture of me fleeing a garbage truck:



And a better picture of my hog:


Hee hee. It's name is Big Chief.

In other news, i made these pendants:







I was am experimenting to see if I like bead or wire or what with them, so more pictures of my other trials in the future. Also, I hope to take some pictures of my school work (paintings and pottery) beofre we leave for ND.

Which brings me to my next point: We will be leaving for the NODAK in less than a week. Be prepared!

So, I have had the best birth month ever. You only get a birth DAY? I pity you. My birth MONTH started over three weeks ago, when I was gifted a sexy-hot (its a stupid word, only to be used in the most awesome of cases) moped by somebody who likes me. Then we went to Savannah for the weekend, where the entire town celebrated my birthday with irish dancers and music and what not. I didn't have the heart to tell them I wasn't Irish- really, it is the thought that counts. Then I went to DC for 5 days,  where the trip was obviously custom made for me .  The cover story was that the art students got to go for dirt cheap because the pre-law  students are rich and generous, but it was all a clever ruse to show me my next birthday present: a humungous dada exhibit  that was so awesome that the entire day became a continuous festival of crapping in my pants with glee.  And I got 3 desserts and free beer for dinner. Then, as if that all wasn't  enough, this weekend we went to see Jenny Lewis (of Rilo Kiley) in concert in Atlanta. Which was, of course, wonderful. It was really a Nicole themed day, because it also included Ikea (the entire store makes me giddy with guilt). But it isn't over! BEcuase we have yet to celebrate the birthday of a Mr. Richard Bell.  Which is still a continuation of my party month. Sorry to brag, but I kinda rule March.

Happy St. Patty's Day, one and all. Everyone who is legal, enjoy your green beer.  Me? Well, I will be waiting a short four more days until I whittle away my hours at the local alchohol dispensery.  How ridiculous is it that I have to wait 361 days for green beer? Maybe I will bring my own food dye and make my own St. Patty's day. rock.

I think the bees in our yard are africanized. they are the size of kiwis. not the fruit, the native people of new zealand. come on, you get it.

ok, because this entry was not only short but also pointless, I will make up for it with something that makes me laugh every time I think about it.  here goes: One day I asked josh a question from the living room while he was in the  bedroom. Josh sisn't answer me, so i repeated myself. then josh walked out holding barnaby, and trying to pet him all super villian style.  But it didn't work, because barnaby was attacking his hand. It was hilarious.

Ok, that story was funnier in person. Here is a better one. One time while josh was shaving and I was showering, I suddenly remembered the time my family was at a resteraunt and my dad tried to order potato wedges as an appetizer, but he pronounced it "potato wedgies". I tried to explaain to josh why i was laughing, but I couldn't finish the story because I kept laughing before I could say "potato wedgies".  Which is when josh said, "Nicole, I have heard this story before. It isn't THAT funny." Which of course made me laugh ten times harder. Seriously, I almost collapsed.

So guess who owns the cutest, pinkest, scootiest scooter in town? Why that would be ME! Stop being envious, it is not becoming.
I don't ave photos yet, but I am sure there will be photos floating around the internet soon. When you say something will be floating around the internet a) it sounds like VD or b) it just sounds like porn. Haha, scooty scoot scoot porn. I approve.

I wish I could play the sitar. That seems like a pretty useful talant.

So it turns out I am going to make the transition into a legally drinking adult in our nations capitol with a bunch of strangers. I can't think of a better place, can you? Every single one of those strangers better buy me a beer. Or else I will cry. And there is nothing sadder than a birthday girl crying on her birthday- in a strange town no less.

So I finally got a haircut, and here it is.


 
Nothing too drastic. Nothing too special, really. I am only posting pics for Amber. I wanted much shorter bangs, but the stylist talked me out of it- he said I should try them longer and see if I like them. Sound advice, I suppose. But that isn't really my thing. I usually go all out with haircuts. I like leaving feet of hair on the floor behind me, not inches. I really wanted it a bit shorter, but he kept complimenting my hair and didn't really want to cut off much. Oh well, next time. At least I won't look like an unkempt hobo on my birthday. Speaking of which, let the countdown to the debauchery begin. Who wants to hold my hair back, now that it is measurably more stylish (though not my own style... oh well.)

I am writing a paper on Vonnegut's Breakfast of Champions (I am an idiot for picking this book, Slaughterhouse or Player Piano would have been so much easier.... I am dumb), which is about one of Vonnegut's favorite recurring characters, Kilgore Trout, a science fiction writer. All of Trout's ridiculous plotlines (my favorite so far is cloning himself in chicken noodle soup) have me thinking about just science fiction in general, and my love hate relationship with it. Mostly hate. But I love science. And I love fiction. So why, when the two combine, do they usually get so damn cheesy?

I have also been thinking about old science fiction. Most science fiction should eventually become dated, with all of the developments in technology. But they haven't. We still have no flying cars, we still have no invisable men, we still have no meals in pill form. We were promised all of those by the year 2000 by everyone- movies, cartoons.... jerks. The only science fiction thing that has come true is cloning. The most useless (we already have a fairly effective way of reproducing, though it only preserves half of your DNA- close enough. We still don't have jetpacks.) and definately the creepiest. Scientists are creeps.

So I just downloaded the new Jenny Lewis album. Er, I mean I bought it totally legally. Because I am not a pirate. (Sidenote: Seriously though, what the hell were they thinking, trying to dissuade kids from stealing music by calling it pirating??? That makes it sounds so much cooler!)
Anyhow, I am thoroughly enjoying it. Amber you will love it. And Josh is going to hate it. Which makes me love it even more. It is all folksy and gospel-ey and lush. That is a fabric term, but what the hell. Josh always gets huffy when I say he will hate something, but really. You will Josh, just wait.

I wish someone would just cut my hair for me. Out of pity. It looks so terrible. SAVE MY POOR HEAD!

A friend of mine works in a bird aviary, so when she told me her boss died, of course I asked "Bird flu?" I know It was a terrible thing to say ,  she had just got back from the funeral and didn't really see the humor in it. I apologized profusely, but of course secretly I still thought it was hilarious. So, apperantly my sense of humor is heartless. another example:

Classmate: I don't really believe in evolution.
Me: You mean logic?
Classmate (later, while checking his email): Let's see if anyone loves me.
Me: I could answer that one for you.

Of course, these are by no means the worst. I just have a very short memory. Am I a terrible person? I mean, I think a lot of pretty terrible things. I only say the ones that are just too funny not to say.  And usually they are making fun of me or something vague and innofensive, but for some reason I find crossing the "a little too mean" line can make something that much funnier to me. Because I really am heartless. Anything for a good laugh.