Saturday, December 25, 2010

Christmas morning...

Well, "morning" for me, it was actually around 2 PM when my mom came in my room and asked me if I was dead. I had finished wrapping all the presents last night so they were lying in a pile by my door- we didn't have a Christmas tree this year. Or last year. Actually, we haven't had a Christmas tree since...I don't know, the seventh grade? So four or five years? Christmas just...isn't really a big deal in our family. We have a family party, which gets smaller and smaller every year as everyone starts leaving for college. Present-giving isn't really a big deal either.

So this year here's how the present giving morning went. My mom unwrapped her present from us on my bed, a white sweater dress and makeup from Nars and Dior. She said she was going to try on the dress, and thanked and hugged me. I left the other presents for my sister and my dad on the stairs. After I brushed my teeth, my dad came out of his room all smiles and thanked my sister, Mom, and me for his present (two sweaters from Macy's). He seemed genuinely content with his gift; he doesn't ask for much.

My sister looked at me and asked, "So where's my present huh?" I pointed at the wrapped box on the stairs. "Oh! Hm. Well thank you," took the box and unwrapped it.

At that moment, my mom came in, saying the dress made her short legs look bad, and that she didn't like the colors on the Nars palette, and could she exchange the colors for something else that she wanted at Lancome? And could she exchange the dress, or did I just want it?

My sister opened her box and inside was a pink nightgown. Not the silky slip Victoria's Secret type, but the Christmas movie granny-style kind, complete with a frilly collar and embroidered flowers around the neck. My mom oohed and ahhed. "How pretty! And how soft!" (It had been her idea to get my sister it, but it had been me who went and picked it out and bought it-- my mother wouldn't let me buy her anything else. "Get her something she can use. She loves those very traditional nightgown things.")

My mom gave me her sweater dress present back, asked my sister if she still had the exchange receipts for the makeup, and left. My sister looked at me and said, "Why did you let her buy me another nightgown!"

Men are so much simpler than women.

Thursday, December 23, 2010

A food post


Great Khan's Mongolian BBQ-
This place brings back memories from junior high. Every single time we went to the mall, we'd get napkins to squish down as much meat/veggies/stuff as we could in the bowl, ignoring the "Please don't touch food with hands" sign. We even made little walls with cucumbers and meat rolls on the side so we could pile on more noodles. These pictures were from Black Friday, and we piled our bowl so high people began to stare, and it didn't even fit into the box. Seriously, this is the one place in the food court where you can get your money's worth.

Ghirardelli Square-
My first time. It looks small here, but ten of us didn't even come close to finishing that gargantuan family sized ice cream plate. 8 scoops and 8 toppings and by the end we were left with a creamy concoction of whip cream and indistinguishable puddles of flavors. I had chosen double servings of whipped cream. Bad choice; I couldn't even see which flavor I was eating under the massive blanket of a heart attack.



Chicken Caesar Wrap from Jamba Juice-
That is some badass packaging...My friend got this while another friend and I ate Denny's, and when he ripped the cardboard and we saw the stupid sauce cup, we laughed. Who knew Jamba Juice was so...deceptive? Seriously though, I'm never getting one of these from JJ. It wasn't even that good.


"3 minute brownies"-
So I had actually seen this one a friend's tumblr and I went downstairs to try it out about ten minutes later. I imagined, light, fluffy, soft cakey chocolatey goodness. Instead I got...this homely looking, tough, jelly-consistency, sh*t looking and tasting piece of inedible atrocious poop. It even has little corn-poopy looking things in it. I knew it was just too good to be true.

Wednesday, December 15, 2010

Almost there.

It's like the light at the end of the tunnel. The food at the end of the fast. That register at the front of the line (on Black Friday). I can't of any other examples right now because my brain refuses to work.

Today was the first day of finals. I'm not sure how I got through it without dropping my head on my scantron and drooling in my sleep until all my pencil marked answers run together into a big graphite puddle blob, but here I am.
Let's calculate my hours of sleep for the week:
None on Sunday- started my English essay on Chaucer around midnight.
1.5 hours Monday- had a semester calc project. Which I left the most of until the last minute, of course. What a surprise...
2 hours last night- started and finished studying for calc final, started studying for English final then gave up when I put my head down on my desk and woke up half an hour later, grumpy and tired. And the last two hours I'd been studying didn't exactly help...I felt like I was just glazing over dates and definitions and the meaning of this transgression and that soliloquy.
And I've been waking up really suddenly lately. Tuesday morning I woke up literally running towards my door. I think it's been some weird reflex I've developed from waking up panicked because I just realized I was late. This morning I did the same thing, except just running to put on my pants. And I've pretty much been wearing my pajamas to school because I'm too lazy and sleepy to put on anything nice. So I end up just stuffing a bra under my crewneck. Monday I slept with my jeans on so I wouldn't have to change at all. Then in the car today a friend was sitting next to me while I was sleeping and when we were outside of our school she said "Kristi" and I panicked like mad and snapped up like one of those jack in the box figures.

I think I need to relax a little more.

Saturday, December 11, 2010

"Things I Don't Need" from downtown Palo Alto


I've taken a newfound liking to old books. Not necessarily old books by old authors, but just old looking books. And not even to read, either. I just like they way their pages have this yellowed crispy colored look. And how this one's got a leather-y looking cover (it's not leather though. It's brown painted on canvas-y thing).
I think I'm going to start a collection of pretty looking books I'll never read.
But I might actually read Jane Eyre--apparently it's a "beautiful" book, according to my mother...But who has time to read much nowadays? Not me...though I did just finish rereading The Undomestic Goddess last night; what had started out as a toilet read turned into an homework-distracting addiction.

And a tarnished jewelry box I got that needs some repainting...

"Orangettes"


Made these last night because I had a sudden craving for candied oranges. A bit weird because I usually detest orange chocolate of any sort.

Anything I ever try baking/cooking always turns out looking ugly. These look like poopy slugs.

Monday, December 6, 2010

It started raining

yesterday. My mom made a comment. "I feel so terrible for all those people who have to stay outside in this weather...Isn't that terrible? We should feel so grateful." And we talked about it for a little bit.

It made me remember this girl I had seen in the summer, when I had gone to San Francisco to watch Wicked (hands down the best musical ever. Better than any Glee show or movie musical) with a few friends.We were walking down Market St (I think that was it) and there was an Asian girl sitting on the sidewalk next to the subway station stairs, with a sign that said something along the lines of "Please Help. I'm homeless and hungry." The craziest thing was that she was so. young. I could've gone to school with her. She could've been a year or two older than me. On the other hand, she could just be particularly young looking for her age, but still, how can a girl like that survive homeless in the streets of San Francisco? Like can you imagine being seventeen, eighteen, and living day and night without shelter all by yourself? In San Francisco, home to wet muggy and shivering weather and dangerous legit hobos who could probably...well anyways.

The only bill I had in my wallet was a dollar bill that I had folded into an elephant for fun (Internet tutorials...no doubt wasting my time when I should have been doing something productive). I dropped it in her cup, and later my friend told me that she had picked it out, smiled, and put it in her jacket. Now that I think about it actually, I feel kinda shitty. I mean what can she do with one dollar?

I wish I could go back to that day. Call me nosy, but I was so, so curious: How did she end up like this? Where were her parents? Had she run away? Did she have anyone else with her? Was she hungry? Did she want to come eat lunch with us? I'm generally shy and self conscious around strangers, but if I had had the guts, I would've plopped right down next to her and just talked. Maybe she would've found me annoying, too chatty, invasive, whatever, but several months later I'm still wondering what happened to her.

To be honest, I sort of have a subtle fascination with all homeless people on the streets. If it were perfectly safe (but there's no guarantee that it would be), I'd like to have a nice cup of tea/coffee/other beverage and just pester them with questions about how they got there and what it's like. There's always the chance that they'd pull out their knife and kidnap me, or they'd just be downright bothered, so the most I ever actually do is give them money.

That's my rant about homeless people. A little late for Thanksgiving, but suitable for the season of giving (speaking of which, I can't wait until break).