The title of this post says it all.
It's September. This week it has been 90 degrees. I am still sweating in my sleep. My air conditioning bill is still high. I still like Ohio better.
This post may be a little bit of a vent but I'm okay with that since I have been on the campus of Wake Forest University since 7AM this morning and its currently 6PM and I'm still here with no signs of leaving. If you are thinking, well stop blogging right now and get your work done and leave, I will say to you, thanks for that. However, that won't work. My work is done. My bags are packed. I'm still here.
Part of my role here at WFU is to run the Undergraduate Biomechanics Lab. Not a bad gig, I get to hang out with undergrads and try and show them I am still cool with hopes that maybe I'll get invited to a raging frat party where I can drink jungle juice* out of a big tub in the middle of the room and just be so college again. However, they are still undergrads. I am supposed to run them each through a workshop that teaches them how to FILM their senior final project. So they get a camera from me and then take it ELSEWHERE (emphasis on the ELSEWHERE) and do their filming and then return the camera to me a good 2 hours later. Group number one comes in today at 5PM when they checked out their camera. My plan is to give them the camera, then as they walk out of the Biomechanics Lab to go film ELSEWHERE, I will walk out of the Biomechanics Lab as well(since it is 5PM and I had been here since 7AM). But no, they open up the camera start setting up and oh yes, they are going to film in our lab. Where my office is. The same lab where next to the "sign up to check out a camera" sheet is a LARGE BOLD ALL CAPS PAPER SAYING PLEASE EMAIL ME BEFORE FILMING IN THE BIOMECHANICS LAB.
So, here I am. Sitting. "Monitoring". Waiting for them to leave. Hungry. I haven't run today. I ate 3 chocolate chip subway cookies. They keep asking me questions (another reason they are supposed to go ELSEWHERE, I am not supposed to do this FOR them). Needless to say, I am not happy. And I am sure they are just antsy to get out of here so they can go to the nearest pub, order a 2 dollar Natty Light and get a little Wednesday night buzz. Well, I am antsy to go back to my apartment, on the way stop and buy a bottle of 5 dollar Chardonnay, sit on my brown couch and soak in the expensive cold air my apartment has been blowing for the last FIVE months, and give myself a big Wednesday night buzz.
Direction Ignore-ers really get me riled up. While we are on it, this also goes for those driving and who ignore directions..."I know GoogleMaps says turn right here, but I think if I keep driving, it will be faster"....we all know that person, and before you know it, you are in the middle of Indiana going who knows where**
Vent over. But, I am still sitting here. "Monitoring". It's 6:02.
*Jungle Juice. also known as Hairy Buff, Liquid Cocaine, or an assortment of other interesting names. It contains I am pretty sure everclear and everclear soaked fruits. You let it sit for like 4 or 5 days and then drink it and you can't taste a thing. You also can't remember a thing after about half a glass. Oh college.
**All of Indiana is "who knows where"
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
Tuesday, September 7, 2010
Kiawah Island SC. Where you are a freak if you don't golf.
Do you like beaches? Do you like sunshine? Do you like palm trees? Do you like vacation? Then you will love Kiawah Island, South Carolina. With the country club feel, this Island has everything you could want from golfing to golfing...to golfing! Don't stop there, stop in the gift shop and buy yourself a Titleist with the Kiawah Island Logo on it and make sure you pick up your pink Ralph Lauren Polo to match your linen pants and boat shoes. Get further onto the island and you can lay by the pool, the beach, the gator infested lagoons and work on your sunburn next to the other 200 people from Ohio looking for a vacation in SC. At night, make your way into Charleston, SC. Don't forget the high heels and sundress though - and definitely don't go easy on the make up! You are sure to feel under-dressed even in your best BCBG dress (go big, don't go last season). Don't count calories, get the She-crab soup and indulge in the fried green tomatoes - If your wearing linen pants or a sundress you cant see mushroom tops anyways.
All sillyness aside, I am lucky enough to be a part of a family that has a little vacation home on this gorgeous island. I love Kiawah and Charleston SC and would recommend it as a destination for anyone looking for an awesome place in the south to visit. It is such a relaxing break and an amazing place despite all the yip-yippyness that can be associated with it. This weekend was our annual trip to Kiawah for Labor Day weekend. Me, my brothers, my parents, my grandparents, and all my aunts, uncles, and cousins (and cousins dogs..) all gather in a little 2 bedroom villa and eat tacos, drink wine, and play...golf. So it starts...
I arrived early Friday morning, after a 4 hour hung over drive due to my festivities of the BUCKEYES season opener the night before. When I got there, I was just in time. In time to say "hi" before everyone walked out the door for their noon tee time. When I say everyone, I mean it was me and grandma hanging out all afternoon. I played a little tennis, layed by Mable* (our pet Gator, naturally), and read a little bit of a book (like 2 pages). 5 o'clock rolls around and the clan returns, talking of birdies, bogies, drives, slicing, bunkers, long drives, OB's, pin placements, bugs, and how my brother is amazing. This goes on. And on. And on. And we eat tacos. And it goes on.
Yes, I know what your thinking...these are all ours. And this is only the front porch
I play tennis. When I was younger, golf was not much of the sport for me. Walking 4 miles trying to get a tiny ball into a 2 inch hole does not really appeal to me/sound enjoyable at all. It actually sounds miserable. Not to mention it should not be so %$!*ing hard to hit that stupid white thing. When I was young my father would drop me off at the tennis courts and play 18. No one asks about tennis though. So I started running. No one talks about that either. They think I'm crazy. They should talk. Golf is crazy. I need more attention. I needed to tackle this golf thing first hand. What is the hype all about. Now, I have played the occasional round before, but it usually ends with my swearing and getting so frustrated I quit before getting through 5 holes or seeking out the cart lady to get a beer. This time, I was for real.
Saturday morning I woke up early to run a 12-miler. It was humid and hot but running around all the massive houses in Kiawah is not a bad gig. A couple times I found myself hunched over in peoples front yards trying to drink out of their sprinklers and I spent about 2 miles searching for a porter potty but all-in-all as good as running 12 miles can be. I returned from that, played a little tennis with Dave, my younger super-star brother and did some of the tennis clinics that day. The tennis clinics alone are reason enough to make a trip to Kiawah Island. Tennis player or not, they definitely have down the hiring process of the teaching pros there. I find myself showering before tennis lessons and putting on make up to try and impress brothers Ryan and Brandon and find myself flirting so obviously with Matt. I am pretty sure I have a chance, and I'm sure given the chance that Jerry would support me letting them buy me a nice dinner. I know that he too thinks they are very attractive men. Whats not to love about tennis boys with sexy tans and toned legs?
One would think that 12 miles and 2 hours of tennis was more than enough for one day but the family was golfing. Of course. 2 PM tee time. In dire need to have attention and to get my parents to like me, I said to put me on the tee time. So, I played golf too. Apparently, I'm pretty good because I had the lowest score of the day. I beat everyone. Even superstar Erik who plays D1 varsity golf.
9 balls later, lots of bugbites, and a house with a dent in their roof, I ended the day with a 63. Erik shot a 74. On 18 holes. I only played 9. Apparently, not the same? That night, over beers, I was in on the dinner-convo. I talked about bunkers, OBs, bogies, double bogies, triple bogies, quadruple bogies (?) lost balls, and how stupid golf is. Truth: Secretly, I kind of enjoyed it and I have decided to start practicing this "sport" so I can get better. Everyone golfs. How awesome would it be if I too could be good at such a social sport as golf. I could win money. Maybe I could impress some of the younger tennis pros with my multi-talented skills. Or maybe Jerry will like me better and want to play with me on weekends. However, I am not sure how that works with golf being a "man's sport". Maybe I'll make golfing girl friends.
Saturday night I was in bed by 8:30. Rightfully so having the big day full of activities. Sunday morning I woke up to everyone getting ready to go golfing. Really? Again?! And I wasn't even invited. I guess only playing 9 holes and shooting 63 and losing 9 balls in the process isn't much of an investment for the family. It probably did not matter anyways because I woke up unable to move. I was sore everywhere. AND, the kicker, I had to leave Kiawah Island. That's right, Wake Forest has classes on Labor Day. Insert: ridiculous. I played some tennis, struggled on standing up, layed by a pool, struggled on getting up, ate some dinner, didn't struggle on stuffing my face and then my vacation was done. It was a wonderful weekend and so great to spend some time with my family - we will see if I can improve the golf game and become a true member of the family next Labor Day...maybe they will let me play more than once.
*We actually do not have a pet alligator named Mable. However, there is a gator named Mable that hangs out on our back patio. He is pretty much the reason my little cousin Dam-o is afraid to sleep at night. He also may hang out on out back porch because he likes to eat ice cubes that we throw at him. Illegal/Dangerous/CRIKEY!
Mable taking a nap/waiting to chomp my arm off. Please note that this picture is not zoomed in and this is from our back porch and that Mable is touchable with a fishing rod. Bud Light may have been involved during that evening.
All sillyness aside, I am lucky enough to be a part of a family that has a little vacation home on this gorgeous island. I love Kiawah and Charleston SC and would recommend it as a destination for anyone looking for an awesome place in the south to visit. It is such a relaxing break and an amazing place despite all the yip-yippyness that can be associated with it. This weekend was our annual trip to Kiawah for Labor Day weekend. Me, my brothers, my parents, my grandparents, and all my aunts, uncles, and cousins (and cousins dogs..) all gather in a little 2 bedroom villa and eat tacos, drink wine, and play...golf. So it starts...
I arrived early Friday morning, after a 4 hour hung over drive due to my festivities of the BUCKEYES season opener the night before. When I got there, I was just in time. In time to say "hi" before everyone walked out the door for their noon tee time. When I say everyone, I mean it was me and grandma hanging out all afternoon. I played a little tennis, layed by Mable* (our pet Gator, naturally), and read a little bit of a book (like 2 pages). 5 o'clock rolls around and the clan returns, talking of birdies, bogies, drives, slicing, bunkers, long drives, OB's, pin placements, bugs, and how my brother is amazing. This goes on. And on. And on. And we eat tacos. And it goes on.
Yes, I know what your thinking...these are all ours. And this is only the front porch I play tennis. When I was younger, golf was not much of the sport for me. Walking 4 miles trying to get a tiny ball into a 2 inch hole does not really appeal to me/sound enjoyable at all. It actually sounds miserable. Not to mention it should not be so %$!*ing hard to hit that stupid white thing. When I was young my father would drop me off at the tennis courts and play 18. No one asks about tennis though. So I started running. No one talks about that either. They think I'm crazy. They should talk. Golf is crazy. I need more attention. I needed to tackle this golf thing first hand. What is the hype all about. Now, I have played the occasional round before, but it usually ends with my swearing and getting so frustrated I quit before getting through 5 holes or seeking out the cart lady to get a beer. This time, I was for real.
Saturday morning I woke up early to run a 12-miler. It was humid and hot but running around all the massive houses in Kiawah is not a bad gig. A couple times I found myself hunched over in peoples front yards trying to drink out of their sprinklers and I spent about 2 miles searching for a porter potty but all-in-all as good as running 12 miles can be. I returned from that, played a little tennis with Dave, my younger super-star brother and did some of the tennis clinics that day. The tennis clinics alone are reason enough to make a trip to Kiawah Island. Tennis player or not, they definitely have down the hiring process of the teaching pros there. I find myself showering before tennis lessons and putting on make up to try and impress brothers Ryan and Brandon and find myself flirting so obviously with Matt. I am pretty sure I have a chance, and I'm sure given the chance that Jerry would support me letting them buy me a nice dinner. I know that he too thinks they are very attractive men. Whats not to love about tennis boys with sexy tans and toned legs?
One would think that 12 miles and 2 hours of tennis was more than enough for one day but the family was golfing. Of course. 2 PM tee time. In dire need to have attention and to get my parents to like me, I said to put me on the tee time. So, I played golf too. Apparently, I'm pretty good because I had the lowest score of the day. I beat everyone. Even superstar Erik who plays D1 varsity golf.
9 balls later, lots of bugbites, and a house with a dent in their roof, I ended the day with a 63. Erik shot a 74. On 18 holes. I only played 9. Apparently, not the same? That night, over beers, I was in on the dinner-convo. I talked about bunkers, OBs, bogies, double bogies, triple bogies, quadruple bogies (?) lost balls, and how stupid golf is. Truth: Secretly, I kind of enjoyed it and I have decided to start practicing this "sport" so I can get better. Everyone golfs. How awesome would it be if I too could be good at such a social sport as golf. I could win money. Maybe I could impress some of the younger tennis pros with my multi-talented skills. Or maybe Jerry will like me better and want to play with me on weekends. However, I am not sure how that works with golf being a "man's sport". Maybe I'll make golfing girl friends.
Saturday night I was in bed by 8:30. Rightfully so having the big day full of activities. Sunday morning I woke up to everyone getting ready to go golfing. Really? Again?! And I wasn't even invited. I guess only playing 9 holes and shooting 63 and losing 9 balls in the process isn't much of an investment for the family. It probably did not matter anyways because I woke up unable to move. I was sore everywhere. AND, the kicker, I had to leave Kiawah Island. That's right, Wake Forest has classes on Labor Day. Insert: ridiculous. I played some tennis, struggled on standing up, layed by a pool, struggled on getting up, ate some dinner, didn't struggle on stuffing my face and then my vacation was done. It was a wonderful weekend and so great to spend some time with my family - we will see if I can improve the golf game and become a true member of the family next Labor Day...maybe they will let me play more than once.
*We actually do not have a pet alligator named Mable. However, there is a gator named Mable that hangs out on our back patio. He is pretty much the reason my little cousin Dam-o is afraid to sleep at night. He also may hang out on out back porch because he likes to eat ice cubes that we throw at him. Illegal/Dangerous/CRIKEY!
Mable taking a nap/waiting to chomp my arm off. Please note that this picture is not zoomed in and this is from our back porch and that Mable is touchable with a fishing rod. Bud Light may have been involved during that evening.
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