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I go to Calhoun for school, which I'm not sure I've mentioned here by name. It's a community college but it's huge for one. (Here's a picture I took as I was leaving the Math & Science Building--where I took uh, French--last semester--and that's like, a fourth of the campus.) In fact, with the two other campuses in addition to the main one, which I attend, it's the largest 2-year college in Alabama. Anyway, it was named after John C. Calhoun, the seventh veep of these United States, who was kind of a handsome fellow in his younger years and apparently went into carnival spookhouse work when he was older. No one really seems to know why he's the namesake--he was a South Carolinian and his links to Alabama are pretty flimsy. I know he had some relatives here but still, it's not like he had an enormous influence on the state. So that's kind of a mystery. But whomever named our mascot had a funny sense of humor. Um, if you're an American history geek. Now Mr. Calhoun, if you don't know, [WARNING: NERD ALERT] and a group of his colleagues in the Twelfth Congress were way into war. Their fervent calls for war against Great Britain, which did indeed lead to a tussle that became known as the War of 1812, earned them the nickname War Hawks. So yes, we are the Calhoun Warhawks. (By the way, it was Virginia Congressman John Randolph who coined the term "War Hawks." But to be fair, he had apparently just gone through puberty so he was probably having lots of mood swings.)
Anyway that was all to say that I bought a Calhoun Warhawks t-shirt today so that I may bask in American history nerdery. I am not ashamed. (It looks like this--I got one like the ones in the basket, charcoal with hot pink lettering. Because nothing says let the bodies hit the floor like hot pink script.) I also defined phallic for the THIRD time in psych class today. It's amazing. Some of these girls are barely out of high school and already have toddlers, yet they won't say "penis" in the classroom.
Then I went to buy a cheap saucepan, because my very successful break-most-of-the-ones-I-own program has drawn to a close, and I have dreams of making tea AND soup at the same time. I went to Fred's, a discount store, and after I found the saucepan I looked around because sometimes you can find interesting stuff in there. Like this. Is your soul bland? I also bought a little bottle of 4711. It's billed as the "original eau de cologne" and they aren't lying (almost)--the phrase "eau de cologne" was originally created to mean water of Cologne, as in the German city where it was first created. This isn't the first FIRST company to make a scent in Cologne but it's up there. Anyway, the bottles are lovely and classic and they were a whopping $1 each at Fred's.
Muelhens created 4711 in 1792. It is the result of the following top fragrance Notes: bergamot, lemon and orange. The middle notes are: rosemary and rose and the base of the fragrance is: musk, petitgrain and neroli.
It's...interesting.
Saturday was the 65th anniversary of Bicycle Day, which I completely forgot about. I also forgot that the Chief would be appearing on a special on the History Channel that night called "Peyote to LSD: A Psychedelic Odyssey." It will repeat on Saturday at 5PM (est, I'm assuming). Yes, I set my Tivo.
Today, of course, is the day of the Earth. So on that note, and speaking of the Chief, here is a gentleman and scholar, a raconteur and rogue, my Chief, my friend* Mr. Bob Weir and the rest of Ratdog doing "Ashes and Glass." Er, after a brief segment in which he tries to complete an interview as certain people who are definitely not anything like your upstanding hostess, work diligently at distraction behind the interviewer's back.
[Part 2]
And if that roll takes us to France
Teach them Froggies how to dance
Keep on dancin', sing the tune
We'll be dancin' all around the moon
And if that big old moon go bust
Well ashes to ashes, baby, dust to dust
Baby it's time for one last rave
Keep on dancin' on our own graves.
*Also, a guy I keep forgetting to email. Oops. Tonight. Tonight I will do it.
Anyway that was all to say that I bought a Calhoun Warhawks t-shirt today so that I may bask in American history nerdery. I am not ashamed. (It looks like this--I got one like the ones in the basket, charcoal with hot pink lettering. Because nothing says let the bodies hit the floor like hot pink script.) I also defined phallic for the THIRD time in psych class today. It's amazing. Some of these girls are barely out of high school and already have toddlers, yet they won't say "penis" in the classroom.
Then I went to buy a cheap saucepan, because my very successful break-most-of-the-ones-I-own program has drawn to a close, and I have dreams of making tea AND soup at the same time. I went to Fred's, a discount store, and after I found the saucepan I looked around because sometimes you can find interesting stuff in there. Like this. Is your soul bland? I also bought a little bottle of 4711. It's billed as the "original eau de cologne" and they aren't lying (almost)--the phrase "eau de cologne" was originally created to mean water of Cologne, as in the German city where it was first created. This isn't the first FIRST company to make a scent in Cologne but it's up there. Anyway, the bottles are lovely and classic and they were a whopping $1 each at Fred's.
Muelhens created 4711 in 1792. It is the result of the following top fragrance Notes: bergamot, lemon and orange. The middle notes are: rosemary and rose and the base of the fragrance is: musk, petitgrain and neroli.
It's...interesting.
Saturday was the 65th anniversary of Bicycle Day, which I completely forgot about. I also forgot that the Chief would be appearing on a special on the History Channel that night called "Peyote to LSD: A Psychedelic Odyssey." It will repeat on Saturday at 5PM (est, I'm assuming). Yes, I set my Tivo.
Today, of course, is the day of the Earth. So on that note, and speaking of the Chief, here is a gentleman and scholar, a raconteur and rogue, my Chief, my friend* Mr. Bob Weir and the rest of Ratdog doing "Ashes and Glass." Er, after a brief segment in which he tries to complete an interview as certain people who are definitely not anything like your upstanding hostess, work diligently at distraction behind the interviewer's back.
[Part 2]
And if that roll takes us to France
Teach them Froggies how to dance
Keep on dancin', sing the tune
We'll be dancin' all around the moon
And if that big old moon go bust
Well ashes to ashes, baby, dust to dust
Baby it's time for one last rave
Keep on dancin' on our own graves.
*Also, a guy I keep forgetting to email. Oops. Tonight. Tonight I will do it.
