Facebook Is a Self-Esteem Killer

I, like most red-blooded college students, check Facebook once a day.

Actually, that's not true, most college students check Facebook more than once a day. But I digress.

But there's a ton of tailored ads to me on the side of the screen, and while some of them are relevant (like the ones asking me to sell my books back to Belltower, or that House or Mad Men's new seasons are on sale on Amazon.com), some of them are really irrelevant. I constantly get the ads to start gaming online, which I refuse to do after losing several friends to WoW and other games. Some of them are for online radio or giveaways or what have you.

But..."Catholic Wife Wanted"? Vhat?! "Meet Catholic men who are serious about faith, marriage and family life. Take a step of Faith you could meet him today!" ?

Okay, first of all, how about some punctuation between "faith" and "you"? I know that's grammar nazi of me (whoa, two posts in a row involving Nazis), but I'm an aspiring journalist. If I'm going to date another Catholic, he should know when a comma is necessary. If that's close minded, so be it.

Furthermore, I don't want to be someone's Catholic wife! That's sort of demeaning, if you think about it. I don't want to be characterized by just being "Catholic" and a "wife." Plus, I'm 21. I don't really want to be a wife for quite some time.

My TV Doesn't Work for Good Channels

I just noticed over the last week that my television is crappier than previously thought.

So I've had this thing since I was like 13, so it's now over 7 years old. It has a VCR still built into it - not that it's a good one that works, but it's there nonetheless - and it has wavy lines all over the screen. The kind that when cable is sort of cruddy and you haven't watched the channel lately, the ones higher up on the dial, they fuzz out? That's sort of what my TV does to every channel.

But now I discover that like 3+ channels that I usually watch have no sound to them. Like, silent movie without the music. I can't watch E! (which is a problem, because that's where "The Soup" is). I can't watch TBS (which is where "Conan" is). And I can't watch USA (which is where "House" marathons and general time wasters are).

I don't know when this started, but I don't get why some channels are perfectly fine (like the never watched Nickelodeon) but these other ones aren't.

Winter Break Sucks

I usually love Winter Break, and I'll probably regret this post in the near future. But I'm really not feeling this one.

Sure, I got to go home for Christmas, which was great. I got to see friends, I got to ring in the new year, got to work a bit, etc. But it's really lacking in snow.

Seriously. For all the "blizzard" talk last week, we got a dust and that was about it. If it's going to be winter, I really wish it would look like it and act like it.

Like, if I can walk outside in a t-shirt to go to the gym without a jacket on, that's not winter. That's crap.

Mo Finals, Mo Problems

As nervous as I am about the real world next year, I'm really super psyched that I will no longer have to write 12-15 pages about stuff I'm sick of talking about.

In the next two to three weeks, I will need to finish that paper (which by now is done and ready to be turned in), do a multimedia presentation — which includes a video, audios slideshow, audio standalone, still photos, text, maps, graphs, and interactives, write two essays for Holocaust, write two longer essays for Magical Realism (one of which is due next week, one of which is due during finals), and take a test in Italian.

Grumble grumble grumble grumble.

Priorities, Italy. Priorities!

As you all probably know by now, I've been taking Italian this semester to get in touch with my roots and learn a new language — which for me, geek that I am, is actually pretty fun. So far, we've learned a few verbs, the descriptions of people, how to say family members and how to introduce ourselves, count, say where we're from, and talk about sports. Right now we're learning about technology and how to talk about computers.

What I would like to know is how in the first 100 pages of our book we have learned almost nothing about Italian food.

Seriously. I don't know anyone who has gone out of their way to purchase an Italian laptop. They're not really known for their technological advancements. They are world known for their delicious, meat-filled and sauce-smothered pasta and cuisine. So at this point in my Italian class, I can tell you all the members of my family and talk about a football game. But I can't order myself dinner? Whuh?

This November, Vote NO To Negative Campaign Ads

God I miss England. Over there you're not allowed to have TV ads for politics, much less negative ones. But over here? I just saw six negative campaign ads in a row.

Six. Six!

(Well, 5, Kirsten Gillibrand's was just her standing there talking about how the state is sucking and blaming its problems on someone else)

I mean, is the election here yet? Because I'm over it.

Now Panic and Freak Out

So following all the terrible attacks on college campuses, Ithaca College decided to institute this loud-ass siren and alert system to let us know if there's a crazed axe murderer or bandit on campus. And I gotta tell you, I really appreciate this. It's nice to know where to run and hide in case there's a crazy on the loose.

I've thankfully never heard this used in a real emergency, but the testing is pretty freaking scary, I gotta tell you. I was sitting innocently enough upstairs in Emerson on my laptop when out of nowhere this loud siren goes off:

"THIS IS A TEST OF THE EMERGENCY RESPONSE SYSTEM. THIS IS ONLY A TEST. WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOWOOOOO
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO."

And then after that, everyone's phones started going off at the same time, like The Ring. Everyone who signed up for it (which is like everyone) gets texts and phone calls and e-mails about the test of the system, or of the system going off itself.

But holy shit, was that scary.

The One Time I Wish Mom Went With "Alessandra"

I was sitting in Italian class learning how to ask people's names and how to respond (In this case, "Come ti chiame?" to ask "What's your name?" and "Mi chiamo _________" to answer). We all answered back, and then we learned the alphabet.

The issue here is that there are only 21 letters in the Italian alphabet, and "X" is not one of them.

Kelly had the same problem, since there's no "K" in the Italian language (they go with the hard C there, so I don't know what her Italian equivalent would be).

But then I remember talking to Mom and asking her what names she and Dad were considering for me when naming me, and she (shockingly, to me) mentioned that Alessandra was briefly in the running. Which, in this particular instance, would've made things a little easier.

This is not to say I don't like my name. Really, I do love it. It's not often that I use the whole 4 syllables of it (Alexandra), but I do use it in my bylines for the Ithacan and on my resume. It's used for what my Mom wanted: She wanted a name with lots of nicknames that looked good on leterhead (and to be honest, Alexandra Palombo looks pretty awesome, if not intimidating to a 5 year old learning how to spell for the first time). I use Alex because my parents have called me that since I was born.

But really. Mom? Dad? For the purposes of this blog post and this class? Alessandra. Just saying.

Hey Flunkee! Your Music Sucks

Dear Summer School Students -


It has come to my attention that you not only can't pass 7th grade algebra, but that you have shitty taste in music.
I

I have no problem with you listening to music so long as I can't hear it. If it helps you work better, fine. If you're ignoring your work because you're listening, that's cool too, just do it quietly.


I have no reason to be listening to your shit gangsta rap (because you're from the mean streets of Delaware) or Justin Bieber (makeitstopmakeitstopmakeitstop).


Thanks much. Keep on working/dicking around.

Business in the Front, Party in the Back, Banned in the Middle East

It's happened. Iran banned the mullet.

Along with ponytails and spiky hair, mullets are no longer allowed in Iran. And I gotta tell you, for once I totally agree with Iran. The haircut is gross and sort of looks like you got your hair cut in a hurry. Like you didn't have enough time for them to get to the back of your head before you had to run out of the stylists' chair and away from the COPS cameramen trailing you to your...well, trailer.

I will say this, though. I do appreciate the fact that the USA gives me the freedom to have shitty hair. I mean, it doesn't make the mullet any less gross. But I do have the freedom to choose to look like a hot mess.

USA! USA! USA!

Teenagers Bug The Living Shit Outta Me

(And yes, this blog post's title is a reference to My Chemical Romance)

I've been working summer school for about 3 summers now, and this is my second summer as a paraprofessional. Basically what that means is that I fill in for teachers when they're not here - like this week, when one is at a conference - and I make sure that people are working and that the tech they're using is as well.

So as I've been in for the English teacher this week, I've had to not only grade and keep everyone sort of quiet (whether they work or not is their choice, not, my issue - as long as they don't bug me or others, I'm okay with whatever they choose to do), but also take attendance. I don't know the kids personally, and I only know a few of their names because a few are repeat offenders of summer school. So I've been taking attendance by going around the room and getting peoples' names.

Unfortunately for me and their attendance records, they've been telling me the wrong names to mess with me. I thought this kid Malcolm was this other kid Ahmad this whole time. And the boys in the corner? Forget it. They've been giving me each others' names as well.

Now call me crazy, but if I'm being forced by my parents and my school to go to summer school because I slacked off during the year, I want to get credit for getting my ass out of bed at 6 AM over what should be my summer vacation. I want to make sure that even if I'm not working, even if I'm screwing around on video games (like most of the kids here seem to d0), that I'm marked down present so my mom doesn't get called and I get whooped.

Ugh. Teenagers. Can't believe I was one.

Lost Is The Abusive Boyfriend I Never Wanted

There are a few shows that I've become obsessed with over the years. My first two "Must See TV" shows were Alias and West Wing (both of which I own on DVD and still watch, in sequence). Later came my current obsessions of House, Damages, Big Bang Theory and Glee. The obsession I don't talk about as much is with Lost, and I'll tell you why: because I love the show, but I'm not as hardcore as Anne Gould Northgraves.

I will say this, though: in my time in London, I really didn't watch the show at all. Yeah, I know, it's the 6th and final season of a cult hit. Yes, I followed it from the beginning. But I didn't have the patience to put up with it when I was enjoying a different country and all their TV 0fferings.

I decided that since it was summer and the show was ending soon, I really should catch up with the last 15 episodes. And I am soooooo confused right now. I won't go into details, but I'm only at episode 2, and I'm really wondering why I decided to get back into this show.

I mean, think about it. I love the show, but it hurts me to follow it around. It's like an abusive boyfriend. Everytime I try to go away, I get bitch slapped (or flash sideways-ed) into submission!

I just hope it doesn't take Maury to get me out of this.

The One Name Power Surge

I was checking my e-mail today (all of the addresses, as sad as that is) and I realized that my work e-mail is alex@southendlabour.com.

And for some reason, that just made me feel really important. I didn't need a last name, I didn't need anything more than "Alex." People would get e-mails from me and know who it was. And for some reason, that just made me feel really important. Maybe I'm easily flattered, but is that so wrong?

It's Really Not that Hard, People

Maybe my impatience has only grown from living in a city. My parents observed this as we were crossing streets here, and my dad was like "Geez, you barely looked before you ran across!" or complaining that they kept losing me in the crowds of people around the city because I was going too fast.

But I really wish people in London would learn how to walk.

Example. I was in the tube station today coming back from Oxford Street and I was trapped right next to the moving tube train because people decided not to move along the platform. As I was leaving the station, I almost got trampled by the people walking behind me because the people in front of me decided to stop dead in a mob scene of human traffic (not that sort of human traffic, just people walking).

This isn't the first time, either. I thought Corinne was going to die in Primark that one time.

Open Letter to Train Jumpers and Gang Bangers

Dear suicidals and murderers -

It has come to my attention over the past few weeks that you seem to favor trains and train stations as a method of killing either yourself or your rivals. I ask this of you: please refrain from using these methods.

Not to sound selfish or anything but it's really rude to disrupt people's transportation because you feel the need to off someone.

For example, me and 300 of my closest fellow London commuters took an extra 2 plus hours to get home from all corners of the Southeast because someone thought it was a good idea to bump someone in the way of an oncoming train. We had to get off at Shenfield, wait an hour, take a bus to Gidea Park, wait a half hour, and then take the slow train up to London Liverpool Street, from where it took me another half hour or so to get home.

Thursday transport was disrupted when some teenage gang bangers thought it was a great idea to stab their fellow school chum in the ticketing area of Victoria station on the London Underground. My journey wasn't held up, but tons of other people had issues getting to places - like Gatwick Airport - because the entire station was shut down.

So the moral of this story is this: if you're going to kill yourself, please don't do it in front of a train. It's quick, but it disrupts so many people's lives. Especially the poor driver! You don't want to be a burden to anyone, and yet you just scarred the guy for life!

Furthermore, if you're planning on commiting a homicide, please don't do it in or around a train or tube station. There are plenty of back alleys in the UK, please make use of them instead.

And By "Trim," I Mean Half My Hair

In the past two weekends, I've been to Ireland, Stratford, and Oxford. But what have I focused on?

My hair. Because I'm vain that way.

Before this past Thursday, I had hair that I could in theory Lady Godiva over my bosom should I so chose to do so, but I hadn't had it cut since Christmas break. Which normally isn't a big deal, but it had gotten to the point where I was sitting in class and peeling apart the split ends. I decided to make a venture to one of London's cheaper salons (which are still more expensive than the Schilling-Douglas I'm used to frequenting back home). I went to Supercuts first because I figured they were cheap and, well, super. Turns out their water was screwed up and they were waiting for a plumber. Being the impatient girl that I am, I decided to hit up Abella's Hair & Beauty on Cromwell, because that was the only other cheap(ish) looking salon I had seen around. I wandered in, sat down, and asked for a trim from the tiny Arabic man inside. I can only assume he was Abella. He showed me what he was trimming off.

He then proceeded to chop of 6 more inches of my hair.

Odd enough, he shampooed me after he hacked off my locks. And then blow dried it and over charged me. Weird. But I honestly can't complain too much, I sort of love it. I didn't want short hair, but considering the last time I had hair this short was senior year of high school, it's sort of fun.

You Have A Baby! In a Bar!

So when we went to Bath yesterday, we decided to get some lunch at the local pub, Sam Weller's. We went and sat down in the back and waited (forever) for our food and this guy walked in with this adorable little baby girl. She had this fleece onesie of penguins on, looked totally content, really just cute. Her dad put her down on the table and ordered a ton of food.

When his wife and other daughter (also very young) got there, he put the baby on the floor to roll around and cry a little bit. And it was really just cute to see this guy with his kids.

But there was a baby. In a bar.

Jack The Ripper

So don't worry about me or anything, I'm totally safe and all. But I just talked to Elise and she told me that Hyde Park was all shut down because someone was found dead. She was running and wasn't allowed in the park, and heard a rumor that someone's throat had been slit the night before. Then we found this on the BBC's website.

Police have closed a central London park after a body was found.

Kensington Gardens has been sealed off after the discovery was made by a member of the public at about 0725 GMT on Friday.

Police said the discovery was made by the Round Pond and they are treating the death as unexplained.

Kensington Gardens adjoins Hyde Park and is home to Kensington Palace, the Albert Memorial and the Serpentine Gallery.

This park isn't too far from where we live (it's aaaaaaaaaaall the way down Queen's Gate, which is quite a walk as Elise and I discovered yesterday), but geez. Way to ruin a run, punks.

The 4th Layer of Hell

So like every college student on a break, I had a dentist's appointment this morning. It was a different hygienist than usual (and I didn't see Alex's mom there today, although she usually is and he was there the day before me with the same hygienist).

I was sitting in the chair, trying not to grip the arms as she poked and prodded at my teeth (see example at right), and I couldn't change the radio station. It was the cheesiest pop music ever, and I was stuck listening to "Party in the USA," in its entirety, as she polished my teeth with this nasty stuff. Then she kept polishing as the song changed to "Touch My Body." It was unbearable.

Victor/Victoria

So as some of you may know, Allie and Matt and I were in a chorus concert on Saturday afternoon for our All Campus Choral Ensemble performance. Allie was in the alto section, Matt was a bass, and I was in the tenor and alto sections. According to the teacher, I was mentioned in both sections of the program for singing in two different sections.

So I took a look, and as it turned out, I was listed as two different people. In the Alto section, I was listed as Alexandra Palombo (as I had asked, that's my name). In the tenor section, I was listed as Alex Palumbo - my last name was spelled wrong and it was cut down to Alex to make it look like it was a man singing in the men's section.

I figure that the last name was an honest mistake, - I mean, really, the same person is in the program twice, you would think someone would look above and make sure they were at least consistent if not right - but I don't know about the first name issue. Looking at the program, it felt as if the teacher was trying to deny that there was a woman singing tenor.