Marc
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One. Finally. No more retainers for me. I got the last vestiges of my metallic mouth snipped off this morning, and I am proud to report that the previously covered teeth look no different from the teeth surrounding them. I got the chance to look over my chart, and it has been almost ten years since I first went in and got braces slapped on my mouth. I find that fact remarkable. Did the orthodontist, who I hadn't seen since 1996, remember the nickname he gave me -- Marvelous Marc? No. But he did proceed to call me "Mawk! Mawk! Mawk!" over and over again. Embaressed. Yes.
Two. Finally. I learned the rules to cricket over the weekend, from Scooter's best man, no less. I had been baffled since one lazy day this past summer when my roommate and myself sat and watched cricket for two hours without exactly figuring out how to score the damn thing. Widgets, nobbets, crockets, blodgets, and so forth. I am amazed that such a game exists and that we (Americans) apparently have never played it ... ever.
Three. Finally. I woke up before ten this morning -- seven-thirty to be exact -- for the first time in almost six months. Or at least it feels like it's been that long. I hate being on one sleeping schedule and then having to switch to a completely different sleeping schedule. For the next few weeks I'll be up at the ass-crack of nine o'clock to begin observing my freshmen that I'll be teaching in a few weeks. Color me unenthused.
Four. Finally. Spring Break. I looked at my Mom this afternoon as I took off to scrounge the local libraries for local historical information and said, "If I walk out this door, it'll mean that I've already officially given up on my Spring Break." She laughed, I sighed. One newspaper office, three libraries, and a gas station later I was at home on the couch, dozing off to PTI. Break out the thongs, kids. Marc's in town. Just a few more days, and it's back to Chicago. I must keep telling myself that. Until then, though, it's more libraries for me.
Up Next: "The Recluse" by Cursive; "Seven Lonely Days" by the Smoking Popes; and "Timebomb Generation" by Strike Anywhere.
Tomorrow: Car repairs.
Quote: n/a
One. Finally. No more retainers for me. I got the last vestiges of my metallic mouth snipped off this morning, and I am proud to report that the previously covered teeth look no different from the teeth surrounding them. I got the chance to look over my chart, and it has been almost ten years since I first went in and got braces slapped on my mouth. I find that fact remarkable. Did the orthodontist, who I hadn't seen since 1996, remember the nickname he gave me -- Marvelous Marc? No. But he did proceed to call me "Mawk! Mawk! Mawk!" over and over again. Embaressed. Yes.
Two. Finally. I learned the rules to cricket over the weekend, from Scooter's best man, no less. I had been baffled since one lazy day this past summer when my roommate and myself sat and watched cricket for two hours without exactly figuring out how to score the damn thing. Widgets, nobbets, crockets, blodgets, and so forth. I am amazed that such a game exists and that we (Americans) apparently have never played it ... ever.
Three. Finally. I woke up before ten this morning -- seven-thirty to be exact -- for the first time in almost six months. Or at least it feels like it's been that long. I hate being on one sleeping schedule and then having to switch to a completely different sleeping schedule. For the next few weeks I'll be up at the ass-crack of nine o'clock to begin observing my freshmen that I'll be teaching in a few weeks. Color me unenthused.
Four. Finally. Spring Break. I looked at my Mom this afternoon as I took off to scrounge the local libraries for local historical information and said, "If I walk out this door, it'll mean that I've already officially given up on my Spring Break." She laughed, I sighed. One newspaper office, three libraries, and a gas station later I was at home on the couch, dozing off to PTI. Break out the thongs, kids. Marc's in town. Just a few more days, and it's back to Chicago. I must keep telling myself that. Until then, though, it's more libraries for me.
Up Next: "The Recluse" by Cursive; "Seven Lonely Days" by the Smoking Popes; and "Timebomb Generation" by Strike Anywhere.
Tomorrow: Car repairs.
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