Would You Like Some Stress With Your Toast?

I'm ecstatically, expectantly happy right now, but preparing for an international trip isn't a picnic (American or British). The itinerary, the fundraising, the stacks of overdue travel books from the library; the PACKING; there are so many things to do. Yet, so few. So, personally, whats the hardest part of preparing for an international trip for me? The waiting. 

And waiting. And waiting. About a month before the date of departure you start counting off the days until the Final Seven Days when the hours seem to ooze by like snail in a molasses puddle. In slo-mo. Even with having to prepare for finals as well i'm still in a perpetual state of patience. Stress is released from the waiting humanoids then gathers and condenses in the house until its so palpable you could cut with a butter knife and serve it with tea. My stomach starts to revolt on about Day 4 of the countdown and my stomach juices are swishing around in flushed traveler's anticipation (which doesn't feel all that great, let me tell you.) My muscles start to tense up, my eyebrows furrow. Oh, let Tuesday come already!

The good news is that all of the stress buildup, the waiting, simply melts away in blessed relief on Day 1: Departure. Suddenly my tummy will be happy again, my shoulders will be movable again, and i'll be packed and completely ready to leave. Actually getting on the Megabus that will eventually lead to England will be like a shot of adrenaline. 

Until that moment, i'm going to have to stick to my usual methods of relaxation: drinking loads of cool bevreges, listening to my favorite music, and asking my little sisters for a deep-tissue massage (aka just laying on the floor and having them run and jump all over my back). Oh, and sating my travel appetite by reading the pretty prose of travel books.

On a happier note, my Mom has devised a way to cheat pickpockets and sketchy characters on the trip. Instead of stuffing all the passports, money, and emergency info for the students into a purse she is planning to pack it into a bum pack, wear it under her shirt and jacket, and claim pregnancy. She has enough practice. I'm hoping to take advantage of the situation and get nice treatment at eateries, theatre performances, etc. Maybe i should pose as pregnant! A pillow or two and I could get special treatment everywhere I went. Or...maybe not. I'm already assumed the teenage mother of my sisters more often than i'd like, I don't need to start a Day Care. 

Jet-Setting Jabber,

-Hannah

THE EYEBROW

The days following a birthday, a person will usually tell you that they don't fell (older/matured/different/better/worse/etc.). In many ways i'd agree. In a few, i'd have to disagree.

Most noticeably is the sudden spike in male attention. (I see that look of skeptical amusement! Stop snickering, buster!) Not much, but more. I'm not kidding. I kinda wish I was. If you've heajoiaweiioopklds:K~KLmkm!!!!!!!!!JHUYI!

Whew. Deep breath. Sorry about that, I had the sudden realization that a nefarious ladybug (the horror novel with a polka-dotted cover) was taking the Hannah's Arm Highway inside my shirt. Right, back to the pheromones.

If you've heard my Creepy-Big-Lots-Guy Story you understand that I don't attract the finest examples of heroic manliness. Instead of shining knights, I tend to be winked at by the glutinous evil Baron who collects vices and owns the profitable business that builds towers to lock maidens into...only unshaven, undeniably creepsome, and with a thick accent. Every male that has shown interest in me up to my sixteenth was more attracted due to my accessories than my personality because i'm often carrying one or more small sisters who are mistaken for my children, making me appear to be a unmarried 20-something who seems like an easy target. 

Its not like I invite this attention. I dress modestly, I usually don't wear makeup, my hair is either pinned up with a sharpie or pulled back in a elastic, and I wear a sweatshirt just about all the time with enticing logos such as "Miami" or "Red Wings". What i'm saying is that i'm not the best dressed chick on the block. So why the sudden attention?

It actually started on my 16th. My mom and I were venturing out of our den of homework to pick up some dinner from PriceChopper, our local grocery and weird people observatory. We were talking as we drove into the parking lot when I noticed a derelict guy standing in the bed of a pick-up truck and waving around what looked like a screwdriver. (Beats me!) We drove past, he looked in the window, and dropped his arms. The pair watched like vultures while we circled the lot and parked. Trying to ignore them, I stepped out of the car, burying my hands into the kangaroo pouch of my over-sized red hoodie. The weirdo fist-pumped and high-fived his buddie, still watching as Mum and I snickered and went in the store. 

I figured they'd be long gone by the time we checked-out, but no. We stepped back out and the white-boy gangsta wannabes started back up the staring contest while trying (and failing) to subtly flex their muscles, their "Be grateful...i'm not dead." t-shirts waving in the breeze. Trying not to laugh, I got into the car and avoided eye contact. As we pulled out of the parking lot, steaming chicken in hand, I sneaked a look. The delinquents were leaning out of the back of the truck and waving their screwdriver in a last attempt. 

Yes, they were creepy. Yes, they were not people i'd like to likely meet. But, they were my age, which is new. And, despite their intense fail, they were still better than beardy Muslim dudes. Or the "winkers". Basically, i'm 70% revolted, 20% amused, and 5% flattered. I'm also 5% bad at Math. 

The another thing that stood out to me was the very friendly, very long-haired pony-tailed Greek guy that gave me the eyebrows during a nature walk today. Ya' know, those eyebrows. The same eyebrow twitch that you'd give while appraising an unexpected chocolate bar, a wordless "Hey, Babe." Like this:

Only...not as attractive. This eyebrow makes me want to rush out and bathe in expensive David Beckham cologne. The Greek guy's made me want to take scissors to his ponytail. 

SO, basically, long story short (though I technically just made a short story long), i'm a teensy bit satisfied that the recent attention I've gotten had nothing to do with appearing to have children and it came from people under 20. I also want to carry mace and hair-cutting implements. But hey, i'm an optimist. 

Now that I think about it, all of the guys who have expressed interest recently have used "The Eyebrow". Interesting...

Nighty-Night, don't let the creepers bite!

-Hannah

Where's the E*trade Baby?

8 Ways To Enjoy the Super Bowl for the Anti-Football Fan

1.Eat. Wings, pop, pretzals, little weiners; drown your boredom in fun-size snacks.

2.Try to identify the player's tattoos.Is that Elmo on a bicep I see?

3.Laugh at the players. Its quite funny if you think about it. A bunch of grown men (many with unfortunate hair) running up and down a field in canary spandex and stuffed shirts. What sane man would go into a sport where they replay slo-mo shots of you being dog-piled by a bunch of 300 pound men? Not to mention all that slo-mo quivering flesh. Yuck.

4.Try to imitate the announcer's voice and narrate the game yourself. "Welcome back, Ladies and Gentleman, to the 46th Super Bowl! (46? Maybe i'm wrong...) The green men in stretchy-pants are hogging the ball and a man from the white padded shirts team is crying in the corner. He might also have a broken femur. Now all the men are lining up with their rears in the camera, crouching and having a staring contest with the other team. OOO! Someone must have blinked because everyones charging each other. People are getting knocked down, twisted, and sat on right and left. Why can't they just share the ball? These men are millionares! Surely one of them could buy their own football. Wait, wait! A guy with really long hair (is he INSANE? this is football, not a hippie convention) is running towards that little colored rectangle at the end of the field. He crossed a little white line. Everyone is happy. He has now DROPPED the ball and is convulsing in what I beleive is referred to as a "victory dance". This is so confusing. Just a minute ago the player wanted the football so much that he was risking grevious injury for it, but when he gets the ball he just drops it! Forget this. Lets watch some commercials now."

5.Find Waldo: Football Edition. Just look into the crowd of screaming fans and either find waldo or the weirdest fan.

6.Steal the remote and change the channel. Who wouldn't want to watch Psych instead of football? Warning: You will be screamed at and possibly tackled for changing the channel by any football loving male(s) in the room.

7.Throw small missiles at the enemy football players. Chocolate wrappers are esp. effective.

8.THE COMMERCIALS! The best (...and sometimes worst) commercials, ads, and trailers are played during the super bowl. My personal method is to read during the game, pause to watch commercials, laugh, read when game comes back on, etc. Its like the creamy filling of a Twinkie.

Check out some of the best commercials:

Doritos: http://www.youtube.com/CrashtheSuperBowl

E*trade Baby: http://www.youtube.com/user/etrade?v=V8pdDI2O_Y4&feature=pyv&ad=4928448266&kw=etrade%20baby%20commercial&gclid=CP-gkMHR9qYCFQjrKgodswnWDQ

Darth Vader: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R55e-uHQna0

Mash-up: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jjzSJj_vfV0

Well, thats all I can think of at the moment. Go Green...people...team...things! Sports and Idiocy, -Hannah