I'm A Mouse... Duh!

It's that time of year again! On Friday, it'll be Halloween! Can we get a hip for the one day a year children can accept candy from strangers? Hip, hip!

Okay, a few things about Halloween.
1. Being a slutty soccer player is stupid and uncreative.
2. There is nothing cuter in life than a four-year-old pirate. I repeat, Nothing.
3. A skimpy costume is perfectly fine. It is not classy, of course, but it is perfectly fine. Feel like showing some skin? Go for the playboy bunny! (you know you want to) Feel like showing some skin, but not that much? The french maid is your calling! Feel like being naked in a hot dog costume? Go for it.
4. Group costumes are in. So the question is, Scooby Doo clan or Power Puff Girls?
5. BRUSH YOUR TEETH WHEN YOU GET HOME.

To end this post, I've attached some pictures for your Halloween enjoyment.











(pea cock, air freshener, Donald Trump)


I'm going to the parade in Greenwich Village, it should be a lot of fun.
Happy Halloween!

Muggle Quidditch?

HELL YES.

Believe it.

B-U-S-Y

B is for books
U is for unicorn?
S is for SAT
Y is for YIKES!!!

Will it ever stop? Sometimes I want to pull my hair and scream. Sometimes I pull my hair, and it hurts, so then I scream.

Junior year is incredibly draining, I feel like I can't ever relax. Every week I slowly get by, there are hundreds of things to be done, studied, or rehearsed. Hundreds! And why is this year so terribly demanding? BECAUSE OF THE MAN!

AND, because this year actually matters! My first 15 years of life? Pssht! That was practice. This is the year to stop fooling around, and to get your act together. My actions today may or may not determine the rest of my life as a hobo, or the next Donald Trump, small Asian girl style, tomorrow. Will I spend the rest of my life talking to myself in a cardboard box? Or partying with preps in powder blue polos in the Hamptons? (if that's what you're into) Alright, it may not be as drastic as that. But still...

I am tired of applications, I am tired of practicing my scales, I am tired of the Official SAT Question of the Day, I am tired of trying (and failing) to understand the laws of physics, I am tired of trying to keep my social life semi-alive, and I am tried.

I know that I sound like an ungrateful brat who does not realize the opportunities dancing naked in her face. I get it. But trepidation is moving into my life at freakish Michael-Phelps speed. My anxieties are here to stay.

I guess I should just accept it, accept that these next few months will be shitty, yes, but that if I focus and put my mind to it, get through this okay. I don't know. I have to decide whether to be a whiner or a winner. I know which one I want to be, obviously. But it's not as simple as that.

Gigs and Gutters

For the purposes of the title, this post's topic will be focused on two things:

1. Gigs in nursing homes

2. Bowling balls in gutters

So I got a gig! It's at a Jewish nursing home on the West Side, and I'm playing Kohler duets with my MSM flute friend. I just got the music yesterday, and I have only days to prepare since we're performing next week. So good luck with that. However, I am very excited to be playing for old people, mainly because I love old people. I often do volunteer work at nursing homes and I find that there are three kinds of old people:

a) Old people who are very, very old, and who sit in their wheelchairs and eat dinner out of IV's. They are not very conversational or demanding.

b) Old people who are old, and crazy. They sit in their wheelchairs or walk their walkers while muttering strange sentences that do not apply, like "I knew that milk was bad!", and "The sardines are ready." (The latter, a true story.) These people live their old age in their head, with their memories. Which, if you think about it, is sentimental and sweet.

c) Old people who are old, yet abnormally sane! They ask you if there are any leftover cookies, or if you could be so kind as to push their wheelchair to the sing-along session. Then they say things like, "Thank you dear," and "my, you are beautiful!" (One of my nursing home senior friends, Margaret, once gave me that very compliment, yet I later heard her say the same thing to a bearded, fat man. He had brought Margaret some extra treats -- DO NOT TRUST HIM!)

Although old people tend to like me, I have never played music at a nursing home for them, and I am very anxious for their approval. I hope to have all three kinds of old people at my gig, for I am eager to see each of their reactions. I am hoping that they will love it, and love me. (I need love.)

In conclusion, I love old people.

PART TWO of this post:

I'm on my school's bowling team (you laugh? I don't care!) and we had a game today. I knew from the moment we walked into the bowling alley that defeat was upon us. Is it possible to play a good game when some higher source sends you a signal of demise before the game even commences? The answer to this question (from experience) is no. Eureka! You see? I have discovered the explanation for bad balls! It is divine intervention of the bowling gods! (On a side note: It is a well known expression that when it thunders, God is, in fact, bowling... Coincidence? I think not.)

And I have to say, gutter balls are malicious things. Getting a gutter ball is like buying a five dollar TastiDelight waffle cone (they're five dollars now) and then dropping it on the street. A COMPLETE WASTE OF EVERYTHING. You had the opportunity to eat the delicious cone, but, no, gravity just had to get the best of you. Same with bowling; you had the opportunity to get a strike and save your team from those serious girl-bowler rivals, but no, the ball just had to plop into the gutter.

Conclusions?

I suck.

Heres To You!

Salutations, everyone!
Or should I say, salutations to V. and K. (I feel like Gossip Girl!)-- my first readers, who now, appropriately, have years of ammunition to mercilessly ridicule me with.

Here's to you guys!

you know you love me,
xoxo Julia-girl



I end this post with a new accessory trend I have encountered, while on myspace:

The Year To Be A Jew!

Can we please have a moment for the Jewish calendar this year?! Have you seen the damn thing? It's friggin awesome! One of the fortes of living in such a diversified city as New York, is the school calendar -- unlike that of my former schools in Pennsylvania, we celebrate Jewish holidays! (Mozel tov!)

Last week we had two days to observe the New Year of Rosh Hashanah! And today we have off to observe Yon Kippur!

Well I'm off to have a restful day off. To all who are fasting today, G'mar tov. Have an easy fast. See you at school.

But-but-but, this is Planet Earth!

I know. Believe it or not, I am fully aware that we live on the third closest planet to the sun, a wondrous world where groups of chaste brunette brothers can become multi-million dollar rock stars, Harry Potter books can be read in 66 different languages, and anyone can become the Vice-President of the United States of America!

Are you a musician by any chance? If so, you may understand my hot-cross-bun-world reference. Pick up any instrument, tuba and glockenspiel alike, and the first melody you will play is the traditional, "Hot Cross Buns." This melody consists of three notes, likely, E - D - C , with rhythms that vaguely alternate over the span of the 15-second song.

"Hot Cross Buns" is the easiest thing you will ever play, which is exciting and depressing news, simultaneously.

In A Hot Cross Bun World, the most challenging homework will be editing your facebook status, Marc Jacobs patent leather heels will be free every Tuesday, crocs will not exist, and photosynthesis will take place in plants and humans! Isn't that grand?

This blog will be the recordings and results of my life, which, I must admit, is not always in a happy bakery bun manner. (sorry guys)

To end this post, I am including various pictures of hot cross buns I have found via google images, with varying degrees of delicion, color, shine, and smell. Enjoy!

First Post EVER

Greetings, world! Today is an action-packed day for America!

Firstly-- the infamous $700 billion economic bailout package has finally and officially been approved by the House and by G-Bush. (we all know that George is a straight-up G) Although seemingly good news for the Wall Street crisis, this is also rather dismal news for myself. My mission to single-handedly save the economy through ridiculously overpriced patent-leather heels down in SoHo, now seems depressingly futile. Oh well, being an undercover fashionista Wall Street savior was great while it lasted--even considering the penniless consequences!

Secondly-- this is world history everybody: I wore my soft and wonderful Lumberjack shirt today, FOR THE FIRST TIME EVER. (deep breaths people, deep breaths) Oh the joys of turquoise plaid flannel! But in all honesty, this was a relatively huge deal in the life of Julia. I had forewarned my buds about my shirt, with praises of love and joy, and I don't think that today was a letdown. Matta fact, I think I looked pretty good! (Blogging is bringing out my inner confidence. Note to self: blog more)

Thirdly-- Nick and Norah's Infinite Playlist came out today! Can we get a hip-hip for cute geeky teen indie flicks? I have to say, though Michael Cera is only capable of playing the same adorable nerd with varying degrees of instrumental-use and orangish tic-tac fixations, he never ceases to make me gush. And I mean, gush, in the girliest way possible. And it's not just him! Boys and men alike, who act like him, apply to the gushness as well! What a horrifying comfort it is to know that I will consistently melt to any dork who is relatively musically-inclined and has a cute and vulnerable puppydog demeanor! (shall I jump out the window now, or later?) I must say, I was a little dissappointed with the movie; I thought there were some very awkward and unnecessary remarks, like when the bitch/skank/ex-girlfriend of the movie jeers Kat Dennings, the main girl, for not being able to have an orgasm. I mean, really people? Really? Is this really what years of "yo mama" and fat people jokes have lead to-- now we're making fun of one's ability to screech during a pivotal point in sex? Come on now people, come on. All things considered, Nick and Norah's was endearing. With the span of the movie lasting from 3PM to 6AM on an action-packed Friday night, it was appropriately filled with head-bopping alternative indie rock music, glorious love pentagons (yes, I counted the side-story love of those hottie gay boys), unsanitary yet enchanting barf scenes, diseased bubble-gum interactions, an interesting strip tease by the Hudson River, and awkward dialect between newfound hipster teens of New Jersey! I enjoyed my three hours worth of time watching N&N's-- partly because Michael Cera is coffee-dunking-cute, partly because Vampire Weekend's new song "Ottoman" played during credits (so good guys, buy the soundtrack!), and partly because my Times Square movie seat was so damn comfy! (CURSE YOU, man-who-kicked-me-out-after-the-credits-rolled-down! There I was, an innocent AMC movie watcher, taking in the last of my comfortable-movie-seat-alter-ego-life, which I should add, is so hard to come by these days of shitty seats, and bam! An old man gives me the dirty look and yells at me to "LEAVE!", when there were a solid nine other people left in the theater.)

And the most exciting news of today?

This very blog, In A Hot Cross Bun World, is born!
(I'll explain my choice of title next post)

So get ready to read the semi-interesting and semi-comical and semi-pathetic life of, well, me!

Signing off, tired and blogged-out,
Julia