A television bullets and then massive entry overload:
1) Grey’s anatomy actually few made me laugh this week.
Callie:Do people ever think you two are a couple?
Meredith: No, because we screw boys like whores on tequila.
Cristina: Then we either try to marry them or drown ourselves.

Yay for not sucking anymore!

2)  Also Stephen Colbert made me laugh with his description of Ethanol- :Corn+Magic=Gasoline”

On with the show:

I am currently enjoying a little shoecstasy. That’s right, Shoe-ectasy.
Why? One word. BITTEN.
Three more words STEVE AND BARRY’S
And a number-8.98
I should have taken the huge EVERYTHING IN THE STORE 8.98! sign as a warning. I should have backed away slowly and meditated on the impending budget doom. But I didn’t.
I walked out with 4 pairs of shoes. A dress. And a snarky tee shirt for my little brother.
4 pairs of shoes!
Dear lord.
The last time I bought 4 pairs of shoes at a time was post-fire when the only pair of shoes I owned were running shoes and it was snow-season in NEPA. Obviously boots and pumps were necessary. But Friday? Well Friday I found myself falling in love with fuchsia metallic flats, turquoise wedges, red suede pumps, and a pair of cute casual trainers.
I’m talking myself out of any buyers remorse because hello, 8.98 a pair! And, because I’m currently dealing with a lot of body image issues, I’m tacking on “or have too many shoes” to the popular, “You can never be too rich or too thin” line.
Besides, I’m way behind most of you gals. I probably have less than, I have less than 20 pairs of shoes, counting the 4 I just bought.
My future roomie has over 100.
I bow to her greatness.
I used to collect pins, I think I’m graduating to shoes. Because seriously, how can you ever have too many shoes?

After spending almost as much in S&B and DOT’S (where I bought my new bag for 10$ score!) as I did on the concert tickets for Boyfriend’s birthday, I met up with the man for dinner at Revello’s, the best Old Forge pizza joint. In case you didn’t know all you Chicago and New York City dwellers, if you want good pizza, you come to the valley. I’m sorry, you can argue about deep dish that, or Brooklyn style this, but you’ve not had pizza until you’ve ordered it by the tray.
Pizza is a big deal in my area. In the town I grew up there is 1 high school, 1 hospital, one main road, and about 7, 8, 10 pizza joints.  No lie. You formed allegiances based on whose pizza you thought was the best.
When I moved closer to the Pizza Capital of the World I was schooled in a whole new world of pizza consumption, and I am still a novice in the subject of Old Forge style pizza. However Boyfriend and I know we enjoy cheese that sticks to the roof of your mouth and so we pick Revello’s over the other big Old Forge joint. Seriously, if you find yourself in NEPA come out and we’ll take you down Revello’s for a couple, two, tree slices, heyna? (For more information on NEPA lingo, visit: Heynabonics and then cry because people DO talk that way around these parts.

After putting a dent in our tray, Boyfriend and I went to watch the Blue Men beat on pipes and toss marshmallows around. It was a good show, and I want one of those Mary Lou-Whoo dresses. I enjoyed people watching and picking out the people with front butt and fake boobs and then we left to meet some of boyfriend’s coworkers at a whole in the wall joint where I proceeded to dance drunkenly to Justin Timberlake and the Pussy Cat Dolls on the definitely-not-dance-floor section between the bar and the wall mounted new age juke box.  I love run on sentences. Bad English major. No comma. We left around midnight and fell asleep around one after some sessy time. Boyfriend left around 7 to go sing with old men and I woke up at 8:31 for my stupid Saturday morning economics class…that started at 8:30. Whoops. This is why cell phone alarms are bad ideas, apparently after 4 beers I’m too groggy to see when I push “dismiss” instead of “snooze” .

And now, I’m sitting at “work” writing a bulk of posts so that I can keep up with my new resolution to not be such a slacker.

Ponder that sentence a while.

And tell me about your Friday!

Two big annoucements: 1) My rifle kids won the district championship! Woot! Next up is states.

2) The Vagina Monologues are tonight! Weee!

I think the concept is wonderful and interesting and I’ve had nothing but good experiences with the program. This year I’m excited to report that I will be preforming the crowd-pleasing “Moaning” monologue. Actual title? “The Woman Who Liked to Make Vaginas Happy”

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Get poppin home slice!

PS-If anyone knows how to make 20Somethings badge work on wordpress puhlease inform me.

I tend to be a bit late regarding everything, it’s how I roll. But please, if you read and don’t comment, comment now!

Please?

Come on.. you know you want to….

Old River Road Bakery iced cookies. They were amazing. My mom and I would savor the dozen for a week, and they just got better with time. Though I enjoy baking immensely I admit I lack the terminology to intelligently explain what type of cookie they were. I’m guessing a sort of shortbread/sugar combination with that frosting that get shiny when it hardens ( I always forget the name). Suffice it to say they were heaven in cookie form. My favorite part of Old River Road cookies was that they came in holiday specific shapes and colors. Valentines day meant pink heart shaped cookies, easter brought pastel egg shapes, and my favorite holiday (St. Patrick’s Day) was completed by O.R.R.’s green shamrock cookies.

My elementary school days were highlighted by Old River Road cookie days, and they stand out in my mind as sharply as buying my saddle shoes, dressing up as Claudia Kishi, and wearing highheeled sneakers (those shoes deserve their own post, which I’ll tackle in the near future). They were a constant in my life, a sort of tradition, a part of my childhood.

Then one day my grandmother, O.R.R. bag in hand informed us that this batch was the last batch. The bakery was closing. No. More. Cookies. See that space? That was my 9 year old self experiencing the shock of grief. It took a while, but I got over it. Of course I mourned when the last cookie in the bag was gone, and emblazoned the image of the bag in my mind and the sweetness of the taste in my memory, but then I moved on.

I discovered cheesecake and sorbet and life got easier. Occasionally, I’d try a similar cookie from other bakeries, but I could never find one that even came close. One day, while reflecting on things I missed from childhood, I wrote about Old River Road cookies in my lifejournal. My Wilkes-Barre friends commented back with news that rivaled the second coming: Old River Road cookies could still be found! The bakery did not shut down, they just moved. The cookies I’d been longing for for over a decade were no more than 1/4 mile from my house.

Immediately I traveled there, to Boulevard Bakery, and to my utmost joy I saw, behind a thin sheet of glass the cookies of my dreams. I ordered a dozen. I sat in my car and upon the first sniff of the bag, I cried. Yes, I cried over a cookie. Tears of happiness over baked goods. That brings the count of happy tears up up to two instances, the other occurring when my best friend had her baby. This was a BIG deal.

From that day on the occasional stop at Boulevard Bakery is not uncommon for me. (Ok, it was a weekly occurrence there for a while, but come on! I had to make up for years of cookie-less-ness, and I’ve got it down to a seasonal thing now). Currently I’m finishing up the last few bites of one and the elation is grand. The bakery is found on Wilkes-Barre Boulevard and is open everyday but Monday. Check it out!

In other news: I’m starting a new, more personal journal here. I’ll still be using Jill for my more NEPA related posts, but I think the ads are kinda annoying for daily readers. So, bloggy friends, go add me there! I’ll work on updating my blog roll too!

This is just a simple example of how we roll…

Shaba:

So I’m watching 2020 and Denmark is the happiest country in the world.
They play a lot of handball there. Maybe they have a professional league you can PR for.

Boyfriend:

But they all wear those high socks.

And we’d have to live in a windmill.

I think windmill live would rock.

I understand, kinda, the uber conservative, Christian ideals that these blogs prioritize, but I fail to see how the HUGE flaws in their theories don’t send up red flags.

I was raised Catholic and I have a lot of friends and acquaintances who steadfastly support and truly believe in the teachings and general Christian/Catholic way of life. But, even as a little girl, I always had my doubts. I mean, the miracles and stories all made sense in the fact that they were teaching morals and the “this is bad, this is good” type stuff that humanity as a whole can agree upon. You know like don’t lie, cheat, steal, kill. But i think the whole “flood of the earth/feed lots of people with 2 fish and 12 loaves of bread/walk on water/etc” served as metaphor.

I just don’t understand the idea behind taking the words written (by man!) in a book as the ultimate oracle. Especially a book full of contradictions. I’ve always admired religious people for that unwavering belief and acceptance of their faith. I want to have a conversation with one of them, ask them how they do it. Do they ever stop to think about whether it could be just a book? How can they accept something without question? And how can they refute scientific evidence like dinosaurs and evolution?

I’m not being sarcastic, I really want to understand.

My break is almost over. I start back to class on Saturday at 8:00 a.m., which is wrong on so many levels. I enjoyed my time off, I got to see the majority of people I wanted to see and managed to do most of what I wanted to do. I’m slowly working my way through the GRE prep book, and am anticipating the test on Friday with excitement and dread. I don’t understand why the Pythagorean theorem will ever been necessary to me as a professor of women’s studies.

This afternoon I tried the new Thai restaurant on the Wilkes-Barre square, Thai Thai.

The atmosphere was lovely, deep purples, burnt oranges, yellows, and reds create a warm and inviting feel. The dining area was spacious and impeccably clean. White linen table clothes and small vases with flowers adorned every table and sunlight poured in through two long walls of windows. Gorgeous.

Our service was excellent. We were seated right away, our water poured and our drink orders taken within the first 2 minutes. I indulged in some mango juice that rivaled the “juiced right in front of you” nectar I enjoyed in Dominica. A small salad with a peanut dressing came out at the same time our drinks did, and that was phenomenal. Our food was ready fast and was delicious. I can’t remember the name of the item I ordered, it was a mixed vegetable dish that was amazing. The Pad Thai Sarah had was also amazing.

The serving sizes were rather large, which unfortunately left us without room for dessert, but I’ll be sure to try it sometime in the near future.