Good morning, World!
As I type, I am sitting in the Starbucks on University Boulevard, in a quiet corner by the window and sipping a steaming mocha latte. Life is good. Apparently, when I'm happy, I'm some kind of magnet for other happy people. Allow me to explain.
When I first walked in here with the hope of sitting down with my coffee and doing some serious studying, I was bummed. It was packed - the line was nearly out the door and every table and chair was taken. So I got my latte and was headed for the door when I noticed a small table in the perfect little niche - away from the bustle and noise. No kidding, people, away from the noise. In Starbucks. And no, to my knowledge, pigs have yet to fly. But at this point, I'd say it's pretty likely.
So a random guy walks through the door, gets a couple steps past my table, and then spins around, beaming. "You know, that's really cozy," he says. He turns away, then back again. "Seriously. I've worked in about a million Starbucks all around the country, and I always try to find the best, quietest spots. But that, that's gotta be the coziest. Nice job."
There you have it, folks. I, Chelsea Linehan, have found the coziest corner in the country. Am I proud of myself? Absolutely.
Friday, February 11, 2011
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
What Makes a Burger a Burger??
Dearest World,
I know, it's been a while. Between exams, homework, and my professors threatening to kill me for forgetting to do my reading, I've barely had time to sleep, much less check in to the blogosphere. But thanks to my awesome brother (who would be considerably more awesome if he were a Wildcat instead of a Sparky), I have returned. In the middle of synthesizing indigo dye in chem lab this morning, I received a text from him:
"So, I've been thinking about something this morning and would like your input. How should we define 'burgers' vs. 'sandwiches'? What characteristics should a food item have to be included in one group and not the other? Mom gave me a chicken burger patty on slices of bread and I am wondering what to call it."
After a hearty laugh, I consulted with my lab partners. We reached the following conclusion: If it's beef, in a patty, on a bun, it's a burger. Any other meat, regardless of shape, or beef on anything but a bun, is a sandwich. Personally, I'm satisfied. What about you, World? Thoughts?
Before I leave you to ponder this great mystery of the universe, a funny thing happened when I went to get lunch an hour later. I was standing in line at a restaurant in the Student Union cellar, when the guy behind me asked: "Is the special today a chicken burger, or a chicken sandwich?" With confidence, and perhaps more enthusiasm than is considered appropriate (or normal), I answered: "Sandwich."
So long, World.
P.S. If you're feeling down today, take some advice from my bro: lose an electron and stay positive!
I know, it's been a while. Between exams, homework, and my professors threatening to kill me for forgetting to do my reading, I've barely had time to sleep, much less check in to the blogosphere. But thanks to my awesome brother (who would be considerably more awesome if he were a Wildcat instead of a Sparky), I have returned. In the middle of synthesizing indigo dye in chem lab this morning, I received a text from him:
"So, I've been thinking about something this morning and would like your input. How should we define 'burgers' vs. 'sandwiches'? What characteristics should a food item have to be included in one group and not the other? Mom gave me a chicken burger patty on slices of bread and I am wondering what to call it."
After a hearty laugh, I consulted with my lab partners. We reached the following conclusion: If it's beef, in a patty, on a bun, it's a burger. Any other meat, regardless of shape, or beef on anything but a bun, is a sandwich. Personally, I'm satisfied. What about you, World? Thoughts?
Before I leave you to ponder this great mystery of the universe, a funny thing happened when I went to get lunch an hour later. I was standing in line at a restaurant in the Student Union cellar, when the guy behind me asked: "Is the special today a chicken burger, or a chicken sandwich?" With confidence, and perhaps more enthusiasm than is considered appropriate (or normal), I answered: "Sandwich."
So long, World.
P.S. If you're feeling down today, take some advice from my bro: lose an electron and stay positive!
Thursday, January 13, 2011
Second Semester Spazz
Good evening, people of Earth.
It's the first day of the new semester here at the UA, and I'm feeling pretty good. Which is interesting, considering that last night I was too busy feeling sorry for myself to even get to sleep before 2:30am. I'd said goodbye to my horse that morning, my dad and brother that afternoon, and my mom had just pulled out to drive back to Phoenix. After a month at home with everyone I loved, the prospect of sitting alone in my apartment wasn't exactly exciting.
My morning went a little something like this:
Hauled my zombie-like self out of bed. Took a cold shower (horrible idea, by the way; I wouldn't recommend it). Had a bowl of exceptionally ordinary oatmeal. Checked the clock. Craptastic. Skipped morning coffee (definitely wouldn't recommend that one). Threw on a hoodie. Caught the shuttle to the uni. Sulked for twenty minutes.
And there you have it. Nah, I'm just kidding - I wouldn't leave you with that. All of the above is true, but my day did a complete turnaround in a single moment. The moment I reached the second crack in the sidewalk, to be exact. The moment I did what I do best. It wasn't a dramatic tumble - rather a 'near-faceplant experience,' as it were. Nevertheless, surprisingly uplifting. A bit like a cuff on the back of the head; like, "hey, snap out of it." So I did. I put on a smile and made the most of my day. Optimism is a wonderful thing.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to pop a couple of Aspirin and hit the sack. Unfortunately, making the most of my day turned out to mean cleaning my bedroom and killing my back in the process. Not awesome. Oh, right...optimism.
Have a wonderful night, earthlings. Until my next trip,
Be blessed!
It's the first day of the new semester here at the UA, and I'm feeling pretty good. Which is interesting, considering that last night I was too busy feeling sorry for myself to even get to sleep before 2:30am. I'd said goodbye to my horse that morning, my dad and brother that afternoon, and my mom had just pulled out to drive back to Phoenix. After a month at home with everyone I loved, the prospect of sitting alone in my apartment wasn't exactly exciting.
My morning went a little something like this:
Hauled my zombie-like self out of bed. Took a cold shower (horrible idea, by the way; I wouldn't recommend it). Had a bowl of exceptionally ordinary oatmeal. Checked the clock. Craptastic. Skipped morning coffee (definitely wouldn't recommend that one). Threw on a hoodie. Caught the shuttle to the uni. Sulked for twenty minutes.
And there you have it. Nah, I'm just kidding - I wouldn't leave you with that. All of the above is true, but my day did a complete turnaround in a single moment. The moment I reached the second crack in the sidewalk, to be exact. The moment I did what I do best. It wasn't a dramatic tumble - rather a 'near-faceplant experience,' as it were. Nevertheless, surprisingly uplifting. A bit like a cuff on the back of the head; like, "hey, snap out of it." So I did. I put on a smile and made the most of my day. Optimism is a wonderful thing.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to pop a couple of Aspirin and hit the sack. Unfortunately, making the most of my day turned out to mean cleaning my bedroom and killing my back in the process. Not awesome. Oh, right...optimism.
Have a wonderful night, earthlings. Until my next trip,
Be blessed!
Thursday, January 6, 2011
The Coffee Bean and Tea Tsunami
Hey there, World.
Blog-worthy news has been in short supply the past few weeks.You'd think Christmas break would be prime time for injuries, especially for someone like me. Not so this year. Ordinarily, a hiatus on tripping would make me one happy spazz. It's actually been a bit of a downer - I've missed you.
Alas, the arrival of Chelsea (you remember my evil twin) in my hometown has provided me with the perfect opportunity to tell you a story. I've come to the conclusion that she is a catalyst for my klutziness; her, and vastly important milestones in life during which tripping would be pretty much the most embarrassing thing one can do, short of losing one's trousers.
Evil Twin rolled into Phoenix this afternoon to ride my horse with our friend Keili (who, if her parents had named her Chelsea, would make us an Evil Trio, which would be awesome). Afterward, the three of us headed to the Coffee Bean. I ordered the largest iced tea they could give me. No joke, this thing was a beast. Chelsea must have been radiating some serious spazz-waves, because I had barely begun to enjoy my tea when it happened (insert dramatic music). I was sitting down at a table and leaned a bit too far forward. One of my...uhh...girls..caught the rim of the tea and pulled the whole thing straight into my lap. When the suffocating bouts of laughter finally fizzled out and I stood up, I looked down. The bulk of the liquid had hit just the right spot to give me the quintessential "I had an accident" look, then proceeded to cascade down the leg of my jeans. Brilliant. And it didn't help matters that the tea was about the right shade of yellowish-brown to be urine from someone in desperate need of a new kidney. Or two.
I predict my next update will be coming soon - I'm starting the new semester in under a week and am bound to have a fresh series of incidents for you all to chuckle at. I look forward to it.
Blog-worthy news has been in short supply the past few weeks.You'd think Christmas break would be prime time for injuries, especially for someone like me. Not so this year. Ordinarily, a hiatus on tripping would make me one happy spazz. It's actually been a bit of a downer - I've missed you.
Alas, the arrival of Chelsea (you remember my evil twin) in my hometown has provided me with the perfect opportunity to tell you a story. I've come to the conclusion that she is a catalyst for my klutziness; her, and vastly important milestones in life during which tripping would be pretty much the most embarrassing thing one can do, short of losing one's trousers.
Evil Twin rolled into Phoenix this afternoon to ride my horse with our friend Keili (who, if her parents had named her Chelsea, would make us an Evil Trio, which would be awesome). Afterward, the three of us headed to the Coffee Bean. I ordered the largest iced tea they could give me. No joke, this thing was a beast. Chelsea must have been radiating some serious spazz-waves, because I had barely begun to enjoy my tea when it happened (insert dramatic music). I was sitting down at a table and leaned a bit too far forward. One of my...uhh...girls..caught the rim of the tea and pulled the whole thing straight into my lap. When the suffocating bouts of laughter finally fizzled out and I stood up, I looked down. The bulk of the liquid had hit just the right spot to give me the quintessential "I had an accident" look, then proceeded to cascade down the leg of my jeans. Brilliant. And it didn't help matters that the tea was about the right shade of yellowish-brown to be urine from someone in desperate need of a new kidney. Or two.
I predict my next update will be coming soon - I'm starting the new semester in under a week and am bound to have a fresh series of incidents for you all to chuckle at. I look forward to it.
Tuesday, December 7, 2010
A Short Story Long
Hey there, World.
I've been wrapped up in some pretty crazy stuff these past few weeks (we'll talk about that later - it's not funny just yet). It's finals week and I'm tired of studying for now, so I thought I'd check into the blogosphere with a mini spastic update.
If you know me, then you may know I have a little something called LLD. No, it's nothing like ADD, even though it may seem like it sometimes. For reasons unknown to me, the medical world thought it was necessary to assign an acronym to 'leg length discrepancy.' In case acronyms scare the bajeebers out of you, that basically means that one of my legs is significantly shorter than the other. This actually turns out to be a rather convenient scapegoat for my less-than-graceful ways.
On with the story. When I have to stop my bike, I don't like to get off the seat; I prefer to just drop one leg like a kickstand. This is nearly always done with my long leg (the left), for obvious reasons. On occasion, though, I forget about my LLD and try to use my right. That usually results in my seeing you, The World, from a very different perspective: taller, and possibly upside down.
This morning, I had yet another lapse in judgment and tried my short leg again. I guess my subconscious just wanted to see if it had grown. Predictably, it was still about two centimeters shy of touching the sidewalk. I managed to catch myself, but my bike wasn't so lucky. It hit the pavement hard, as usual. People stared. I laughed inside.
And that's the long and short of it. I know, that was bad. I've been deprived of puns this week, so I'm taking it out on you. Deal with it.
I've been wrapped up in some pretty crazy stuff these past few weeks (we'll talk about that later - it's not funny just yet). It's finals week and I'm tired of studying for now, so I thought I'd check into the blogosphere with a mini spastic update.
If you know me, then you may know I have a little something called LLD. No, it's nothing like ADD, even though it may seem like it sometimes. For reasons unknown to me, the medical world thought it was necessary to assign an acronym to 'leg length discrepancy.' In case acronyms scare the bajeebers out of you, that basically means that one of my legs is significantly shorter than the other. This actually turns out to be a rather convenient scapegoat for my less-than-graceful ways.
On with the story. When I have to stop my bike, I don't like to get off the seat; I prefer to just drop one leg like a kickstand. This is nearly always done with my long leg (the left), for obvious reasons. On occasion, though, I forget about my LLD and try to use my right. That usually results in my seeing you, The World, from a very different perspective: taller, and possibly upside down.
This morning, I had yet another lapse in judgment and tried my short leg again. I guess my subconscious just wanted to see if it had grown. Predictably, it was still about two centimeters shy of touching the sidewalk. I managed to catch myself, but my bike wasn't so lucky. It hit the pavement hard, as usual. People stared. I laughed inside.
And that's the long and short of it. I know, that was bad. I've been deprived of puns this week, so I'm taking it out on you. Deal with it.
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
It's a Viscious 'Cycle
I've got a whopper for you, folks. I'm sitting in the grass by Old Main right now, waiting for the shuttle to take me back to my apartment so I can change into my pj's and gawk at the numerous bruises and cuts which I know I will find under my clothes. Did I trip today, you ask? No. But, man, did I eat it.
I was on my bike, pulling onto the bike lane from the dirt path in front of the Chemistry building, when disaster struck in full force. My front tire didn't make it up the small bump onto the sidewalk. It caught, sending it (and me) soaring across the pavement and into the sharp rocks on the other side. Let me tell you, this fall literally blew me right out of my shoes. Really, they flew. Almost as if they had tiny wings. Like a fairy. If I'd been wearing socks, I'm sure they would've been knocked off, too.
(One day later)
Needless to say (then why am I saying it, you ask? Why, to annoy you, of course), I was somewhat reluctant to mount my bike this morning. You'll be sad to know (or happy, depending on how sadistic you are), I've got nasty bruises galore. It's actually rather impressive - my left knee bears a remarkable resemblance to an unripened plumb. The world seems to know it, too; I can't tell you how many times my knees have been bumped, jarred, and veritably pummeled. Small whimpers abounded. In hindsight, I suppose arriving early to a class of over 200 and choosing and isle seat wasn't the best plan. But what else is a lefty to do?
Stay upright, dear readers, and have a wonderful day!
I was on my bike, pulling onto the bike lane from the dirt path in front of the Chemistry building, when disaster struck in full force. My front tire didn't make it up the small bump onto the sidewalk. It caught, sending it (and me) soaring across the pavement and into the sharp rocks on the other side. Let me tell you, this fall literally blew me right out of my shoes. Really, they flew. Almost as if they had tiny wings. Like a fairy. If I'd been wearing socks, I'm sure they would've been knocked off, too.
(One day later)
Needless to say (then why am I saying it, you ask? Why, to annoy you, of course), I was somewhat reluctant to mount my bike this morning. You'll be sad to know (or happy, depending on how sadistic you are), I've got nasty bruises galore. It's actually rather impressive - my left knee bears a remarkable resemblance to an unripened plumb. The world seems to know it, too; I can't tell you how many times my knees have been bumped, jarred, and veritably pummeled. Small whimpers abounded. In hindsight, I suppose arriving early to a class of over 200 and choosing and isle seat wasn't the best plan. But what else is a lefty to do?
Stay upright, dear readers, and have a wonderful day!
Saturday, November 6, 2010
Tripping on NyQuil
Wow - haven't posted in a while. Blame it on a series of uninteresting events. I caught a nasty cold this week. Cough, sore throat, fever, face leaking all manner of fluids - the whole nine yards. You can just imagine what a sight I am to behold. Or maybe you'd rather not, I can't say I fault you.
Over the course of this illness, I've done a good deal more tripping than is even the norm for me. Hard to believe, I know. I thought I'd share a couple of the good ones with you. Strangely enough, both of them coincided with the presence of one Chelsea Schlittenhart (yep, same first name - she's my evil twin). I honestly couldn't tell you what day of the week the first one occurred; I suppose that's what I get for going Rip Van Winkle for the past few days. Anyhoodles, onward we go.
I had decided one night to head over to Chelsea's apartment for some steaming tea and a chat. I made it all the way across the complex, up the stairs, and to Chelsea's door with no trouble. It seems my feet are awfully shy about functioning properly around others; I never seem to trip when I'm alone. She pulled open the door and welcomed me inside. I don't think she was expecting me to make such a dramatic entrance. I stepped (or rather, fell) inside, leaving my right foot behind, caught on the small bump of the doorway's threshold. It's a good thing Chelsea was standing to the side, otherwise we may have gotten a bit cozier than either of us had intended. Perhaps her subconscious mind knows me well enough to keep a precautionary tripping distance of at least two feet.
Thursday morning (I've got this one - Thursdays are usually memorable), Chelsea and I were walking to Animal Science. We had a half hour before class, so Chelsea asked if I wanted to hit Starbucks. I'd taken NyQuil the night before and was still in a bit of a stupor, so my response was something to the effect of: "I would KILL for Starbucks." I proceeded to stumble into the street toward the entrance without checking for cars. Luckily, I realized what I was doing before getting turned into road pizza. Chelsea's reaction: "You would kill for Starbucks, not be killed. Big difference." True, my evil twin, very true.
Starbucks in hand, Chelsea and I continued our trek. At the next street crossing, my right Converse caught on some invisible crack in the sidewalk (there seem to be an awful lot of those here at the UA) and I shot forward, sloshing a good amount of my Pumpkin Spice latte (AKA Liquid Gold) on my jacket and hand. However, the burning desire (pun intended...sorry) to save the rest of my latte kept me from going all the way down. Now, if I can just develop as strong a drive for self-preservation...
Over the course of this illness, I've done a good deal more tripping than is even the norm for me. Hard to believe, I know. I thought I'd share a couple of the good ones with you. Strangely enough, both of them coincided with the presence of one Chelsea Schlittenhart (yep, same first name - she's my evil twin). I honestly couldn't tell you what day of the week the first one occurred; I suppose that's what I get for going Rip Van Winkle for the past few days. Anyhoodles, onward we go.
I had decided one night to head over to Chelsea's apartment for some steaming tea and a chat. I made it all the way across the complex, up the stairs, and to Chelsea's door with no trouble. It seems my feet are awfully shy about functioning properly around others; I never seem to trip when I'm alone. She pulled open the door and welcomed me inside. I don't think she was expecting me to make such a dramatic entrance. I stepped (or rather, fell) inside, leaving my right foot behind, caught on the small bump of the doorway's threshold. It's a good thing Chelsea was standing to the side, otherwise we may have gotten a bit cozier than either of us had intended. Perhaps her subconscious mind knows me well enough to keep a precautionary tripping distance of at least two feet.
Thursday morning (I've got this one - Thursdays are usually memorable), Chelsea and I were walking to Animal Science. We had a half hour before class, so Chelsea asked if I wanted to hit Starbucks. I'd taken NyQuil the night before and was still in a bit of a stupor, so my response was something to the effect of: "I would KILL for Starbucks." I proceeded to stumble into the street toward the entrance without checking for cars. Luckily, I realized what I was doing before getting turned into road pizza. Chelsea's reaction: "You would kill for Starbucks, not be killed. Big difference." True, my evil twin, very true.
Starbucks in hand, Chelsea and I continued our trek. At the next street crossing, my right Converse caught on some invisible crack in the sidewalk (there seem to be an awful lot of those here at the UA) and I shot forward, sloshing a good amount of my Pumpkin Spice latte (AKA Liquid Gold) on my jacket and hand. However, the burning desire (pun intended...sorry) to save the rest of my latte kept me from going all the way down. Now, if I can just develop as strong a drive for self-preservation...
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