The Battle of the BUs--A Senior Day In Every Sense
Today’s men’s basketball game at the Events Center was not only the last home game of the season for the men, but also senior day. And I found it fitting that the senior day game opponent was Boston University.
For those of you who haven’t been paying attention to my away messages, profiles or who haven’t spoken with me in the past…oh, year, I am currently in love with Boston University. Sure, I applied to five graduate schools, but since I decided I was going to go to grad school, Boston University has been one of my top choices. They were the first school to accept me (the letter was waiting for me two days after my birthday in my school mailbox). They might not have the best program in Higher Education, but they have tons of opportunities for internships and assistantships (especially in new facilities management--they‘re in the process of building the “Student Village,” a huge building project for athletics, residential life and student affairs, which working with would look soooo good on a resume), and they are just such a cool school in general. I walked around there in August and just couldn’t believe how much I liked it--I didn’t want to come back to Binghamton for another year. I was tempted to finish up my credits at Binghamton in the fall and start at Boston University in January, but I was talked out of it by a lot of people, seeing that I wanted to try for Harvard and Boston College as well. But the more I think about it, the more I want to go to Boston University. But I have to wait and see what happens.
So I attended today’s game and couldn’t decide who to cheer for--my current school, who I’m becoming increasingly disenchanted with knowing that there’s so much else beyond Binghamton, or what very well may be my new school. Well, seeing that I had student tickets and didn’t feel like being beat up (which could happen, as evidenced by what occurred at last week’s Nazareth/Fisher basketball game), I put my Boston University shirt away and wore the green Binghamton hoodie and went along with the “Let‘s Go Bearcats" chants.
The Terriers (Boston University) are currently #1 in the America East conference, and this game showed why. Marsha, Jamie and I were watching the warm-ups when Marsha remarked, “They just don’t miss,“ gesturing to the Terriers' free throwing. They don’t--they only missed once that I recall during the game. While the first half was close, with Nick Billings being the whole Binghamton team as usual (it’s not that he can play, or that the others can't, it’s just that he’s seven feet tall), the Terriers dominated in the second half, working with leads between 10-20 points most of the time. The final score was 69-53, but if our two seniors hadn’t been inspired to get in there and make the best of their last minutes on the Events Center floor, it probably would have been more like 75-50. The Bearcats turned over the ball constantly, and their shooting was way off most of the game. They couldn’t make a free throws at all in the second half, and easy points weren’t made because they were over-shooting the net. They announced that the official attendance at the game today was 4,823 at the end of the game. However, the end of the game lacked so much hope that people began to leave in droves after the 8 minute mark. I turned to Marsha. “Official attendance, 4,823. Official attendance after the 5 minute mark: 1,000.”
It had been noted all week that the Bearcat men had never defeated the Terriers since joining the America East three years ago, and I think the pressure of trying to overcome that in the new building on senior day was a bit too much for them. There are so many expectations for this team to do well so early on in their Division 1 career, seeing that we just built them this new venue, and we moved into a conference that caused us to eliminate one of our traditional sports (wrestling). They’re growing well, but to expect them to have beat the number one team in the conference right now wasn’t really feasible.
On another note, the Events Center is a bit…small? I was disappointed somewhat, and I don’t know why. I imagined an arena…which to me congers up mental images of the Blue Cross Arena up in Rochester. This was on a much smaller scale--the BCA holds 12,000 for concerts and the Events Center, when completed, will seat 8,000. Right now a sell out for basketball in the Events Center is 4,823. The Center is pretty sterile right now, more than likely due to the fact that they’re not really done with it. I fear that it’ll become out of date quickly, but I could also see how it could be easily renovated if that did happen. I don’t know. Did I expect more? Yes. Do we need more as a mid-major D1 school with more student apathy than the Yankees have money? No. On a semi-side note, one of my biggest fears as I leave Binghamton is that the backlash from students and faculty about the alleged “overspending on athletics” is going to deter any more growth in that area--we need more athletic opportunities because unlike what most Binghamton students think, athletes do possess brains. Also, with the local community being as stubborn as it is, I think athletics is going to be the school’s only way to make its point that we are now the economic center of the Broome County area, and therefore, should be accommodated as such.
As the crowds left the Events Center this afternoon, I felt like this was the beginning of the end. It was Senior Day for the two graduating players, but it was Senior Day for me as well--watching my last Binghamton basketball game, having what could be my new school defeat my current school. The next time I’ll be in the Events Center will more than likely be 77 days from now for Commencement. Binghamton may have been where I spent the last two years, but I’m ready to move on.
**********
Random Notes:
--The Barenaked Ladies concert at the Broome County Arena last week was awesome. If you have never seen them live, you need to, regardless of your taste in music. You’ll understand why I have been to nine concerts and on my way to my tenth on Wednesday. They exude enjoyment--they perform because they like each other and they like to perform. You’d have a feeling they’d still do this if they made no money from it. I also realized how incredibly lucky I am to have my favourite band be as accessible as they are--many of my friends have never gotten to see their favourite bands live because they rarely tour, or play only big markets if they do. I can pretty much count on if there is a Barenaked Ladies tour, there will be at least one stop in Upstate New York, usually Rochester. Luckily for me, the band’s other most regular tour stop is Boston. They’ve played there…hmm, I think three times in the past year? Four? I love it.
--I am angry at the 49ers. They cut Garrison Hearst, the only player on the team I really liked anymore. Now, maybe I’m off, but I don’t think Eddie DeBartalo and Carmen Policy would of let him go. Maybe they would--he has suffered devastating injuries that could come back to haunt him at any time. But as a team, if you’ve stood by a guy during rehabilitation periods twice, saving him a spot on your roster because not only is that the nice thing to do, but because you know the guy will come back and be one of your best players, why do you cut him? I mean, I know, salary cap stuff, they’re trying to negotiate with Garcia, whatever, but…there’s a level of courtesy that wasn’t extended. From what end, I don’t know. I think Hearst should be willing to work with the Niners to stay, and vise versa. And I think under different management, the Niners would of found a way to keep Hearst. And Derrick Deese, for that matter. I just don’t understand what the Niners are doing anymore, and I don’t know if I care to. I think they can redeem themselves in my eyes if they waive Garcia tomorrow. The Niners have never accepted behavior such as Garcia’s recent DWI arrest, and they shouldn’t start now. Montana and Young never did such stuff, and if you’re going to hold the guy to those two’s standards on the field, you should off as well.
--Scrunchie Girl, aka Chellsie Memmel, keeps proving my gymnastic prediction skills right. In case you’ve never heard the story, my sister and I attended the 1999 U.S. Classic in Rochester, and were way impressed with this girl. She was 10 at the time, and competing child elite. Her scrunchie was as big as her head, and thus the nickname, but she was fearless and right on the whole night. I turned to Megan and said, “That girl is going to be huge someday. She’s going to be a World Champion or something.” Well, what did the girl win last fall? The World Championships. Yesterday she competed at the American Cup, which I got to watch on tv while doing work, and the girl has amazing security on the beam. Just amazing. She finished third, and she seems to be in a good position to make the Olympic Team. And I SO called it five years ago.
Quote of the Week: Mike Heimerdinger, Tennessee Titans offensive coordinator, on why he hasn't been a candidate for a head coaching job: "They're looking for big names, not long names." -Sports Illustrated.
That guy's last name is three letters longer than my own. I do not envy him. Not one bit.
Sunday, February 29, 2004
Sunday, February 22, 2004
Dance Land, Anglo-SEXons, and the "A-Rod to the Bills" Trade
I just spent the last week held hostage by the Anderson Center Concert Theatre and Children’s Dance Theatre. Aka, I spent the week in the middle of a glitter explosion in the freezing cold wings of the Concert Theatre. I missed one class, skipped a lot of reading, missed two meetings, and had my mini-stapler attached to my hand. CDT’s own Miss Publicity 2004 is in a zombie like state.
Therefore, my entry this week will be another smorgasbord of random thoughts, seeing that I did nothing that merits a whole entry. I’ve spent the past half hour trying to find one unifying aspect to all of these things, and I can’t. Hence, I’m Peter King-ing it again. (Which is okay, because the man is a genius--why didn’t I start reading him earlier in my life? Although he has gotten a bit carried away with the “Mock Trial Notes.” Maybe that’s because I’m jealous--my parents never bragged about my Model UN-ness and Debate Team-ness like that. This is the closest my parents came to bragging: My mom: “Uh, yeah, Katie’s away this weekend. She’s at that Model UN thing…no, it’s not modeling. It’s countries, they pretend they’re countries, she wears a skirt…and she argues with people.” My dad would then break in, “She LIKES to argue. She should be a lawyer. She loves to argue with me.” I love my parents. Ask them what my major is, I dare you. Mom: “Uh…there was the sports thing….but she doesn’t do that anymore…even though I think she should…” Dad: “She should be a LAWYER! She’s gonna be a lawyer, she’s just arguing with me again. She’s just rebelling. She’ll turn around when she realizes I’m right.”)
Where was I? Oh yeah, saying I’m going to Peter-King this. Okay.
--There’s an epidemic going around Take One Video/Bokays (aka, “the store,” the store I co-manage in the New Union). Two of my co-workers ended relationships in the past week. This now means, as far as I know, that the entire staff of the store is single. Guys of Binghamton University: along with renting movies, you can now pick up a girl at Take One Video. While supplies last, restrictions apply.
This also led to my boss telling me all the girls should be more like me because “I don’t need men because I’m too busy.” Yee-haw, yet another outside confirmation of my workaholicism. Who wants to be my sponsor in WA?
--Running joke of the week: “This dance is about the battle between good and evil…this dance is about the battle of good and evil….this dance is about the newspaper boys fighting evil…the dance is about good people fighting evil demons…this dance is about the Anglo-Saxons fighting the Vikings, but the Irish are strong and survive and learn to live together with everyone in harmony.”
Ciarra: “I don’t know where the heck she gets this. You know those kids don’t know what the heck she’s saying about the dance. They heard Anglo-Saxons and they’re like, ‘Ooh, Anglo-SEX!”
--For a girl who didn’t stay around long enough to make it to the Parkie courses in my Sports Info and Com major, I felt a tad like a Parkie this week. (I just realized that the use of the word “Parkie” is alienating my whole Binghamton audience. I’ll explain: Students in the communications school at Ithaca are nicknamed “Parkies.” Many of my friends were “Parkies.” I didn’t use it until I started hanging out with Sara, who uses it all the time--she’s an ex-Parkie who then went to H&S. I still go back and forth between IC lingo and BU lingo two years later. The worst is when I call the SA office the SAC, because the two are completely different, but somehow I slip and get the two confused…I don’t think transferring was good for my poor brain.)
But anyway, as I mentioned at the beginning, I was Miss Publicity for CDT. Thanks to my Homecoming connections, I was able to get Gail from University Publications and Marketing to help me with publicizing our Saturday performance. I wrote press releases, called and e-mailed people, designed advertising, and, the crème-de-la-crème, got interviewed in the studio by our CBS affiliate here. Yep, that was me on Thursday afternoon, chatting it up with Francesca whats-her-face. I realized after that I needed more make-up--I looked like I belonged as an extra in The Hours.
But it all worked--if you live in the Binghamton area (outside of the university, that is) and didn’t at least glance over something about CDT, then you obviously shun all forms of media. We had the biggest Saturday performance, profit-wise, ever. Initial numbers indicate that we brought in almost $900 more than last year’s dismal showing! Attendance wise, we doubled from last year. (I raised ticket prices when I took over as Financial Manager--it was sorely needed budget wise.) Although, there can always be more: when I presented our faculty advisor with my initial numbers, she looked sad. “I was hoping for $2,000 in profit.”
Bah, humbug. Given what other forms of entertainment we were up against, I’m rather proud of our showing. To quote Brian, “I rule.”
--This “Mark Brunell going to the Redskins” thing led me to throw my throw pillow at Sportscenter Thursday night when it scrolled on the ticker. For one, the Redskins were set at quarterback--not only did they have Ramsey, they had one of the Hasselbecks, the one who is married to the new girl on The View, making them the heirs to the famous mediocre QB-actress throne currently held by Rodney Peete and Holly Robinson Peete. They don’t need a QB who has had some pretty bad injuries--and they had to be bad, because any QB with a style like Steve Young and with time served under Brett Favre is going to sit with anything less than decapitatzation--who may be at the end of his career (and that stinks, cause Brunell is what, 33?). The only thing I can think of, and this came to me tonight after I finally got around to thinking about sports again after the week-o-dance, is that the Redskins want to set up a St. Louis situation--if one falters, you have a backup who should be a starter to fill in. But why would you do that when your existing backup (the Hasselbeck) just needs more time (at least I think), and your starter is promising and finally healthy? That’s bad front office stuff. I feel as if I’m missing something here, and I very well might be, because I was in artsy-land all week. If I am missing something, please let me know.
And of course, this leads to what I wanted to happen to Brunell, which was my patented “Kat’s Well-Intentioned-But-In-Reality-Really-Bad Joke of the Week.” I thought I had read something on “The Daily Quickie” on ESPN.com saying that rumour had it that the Niners might waive Garcia. Now, news like that was enough for me to allow myself to eat mozzarella sticks (at over 1000 calories, I only allow myself to eat them on VERY special occasions). Well, I had this crazy idea for the Niners, and if you aren’t the most knowledgeable about your mid-90s football, it can be explained by my Top 5 Hottest QBs list I had a few weeks ago (it’s still up--just go to the 1/24/04 entry): The Niners could get rid of Garcia, sign Brunell, and let him keep his number 8. Don’t sign Owens (not like they’re going to anyway) and somehow get back Rice. Volia! I get to sit back and pretend that I’m 13 again.
My poor mom, I told her this over the phone, and she was quiet. “Uh-huh, honey…now would Dad get that? I don’t get it. Who is he again? And by the way, who is this A-Rod fellow?”
“Wrong sport Mom.”
“Oh, I was hoping the Bills could get him. Are people angry about this?”
“Yeah, Mom.”
“Ahh…do you like him?”
“A-Rod? Mom, I don’t like anything having to do with the Yankees.”
“I know honey. The Yankees stink.”
“Mom, you’re only saying that because Uncle Sean likes them.”
“They stink.”
Thank you, Verizon, for letting me have these conversations more often. Unlimited nights and weekends=the best invention since the internet.
--Sara took great offense to me saying last week that my children will not play basketball. I give you this in response: I’m 5 foot 1. The tallest person in my family (both sides, mind you) is my Uncle Sean, my mom’s brother, who is close to 6 foot. How the heck that happened, I don’t know. (Well, my grandmother is pretty tall, so I guess that’s how. And when I say tall, I mean average.) My immediate family lines up like this:
Dad = 5’6
Megan = 5’2 ½
Mom = 5’1 ½
Me = 5’1
Sam = shortest boy in the 3rd grade
I have this inkling that unless I marry Shaq (ewww), or unless my genes completely get crushed by my future husband’s, my children will be of the running back, not the point guard, variety.
--I have grand aspirations now that Children’s Dance Theatre is for the most part done. I join the SA on Tuesday night as the new Mountainview Rep at Large. I also plan on sleeping, eating full meals, and maybe actually doing work for my classes. I also have decided that there are three more things I want to do in the 80-something days before I leave college:
1) Dance one more time somewhere.
2) Write a guest column in the Pipe Dream (school newspaper).
3) Be on the sports show on BTV (aka, avenge the BTV dating show disaster I participated in last year. Blech. I can’t believe I did that.)
We will see if I get those done. I may not, seeing that I have that little thing called a thesis to write.
--Next week: The BU vs. BU basketball game! The Bear-Kats (hahahahaha, I’ll be here all week) versus the Terriers. The cats versus the dogs. Wow, I’m just trading wimpy mascots.
And I leave you with my quote of the week: "I can not have sex with a Harvard acceptance letter!" (not that I've gotten one yet or that I will).
Where's the sign up for Workaholics Anonoymous again?
I just spent the last week held hostage by the Anderson Center Concert Theatre and Children’s Dance Theatre. Aka, I spent the week in the middle of a glitter explosion in the freezing cold wings of the Concert Theatre. I missed one class, skipped a lot of reading, missed two meetings, and had my mini-stapler attached to my hand. CDT’s own Miss Publicity 2004 is in a zombie like state.
Therefore, my entry this week will be another smorgasbord of random thoughts, seeing that I did nothing that merits a whole entry. I’ve spent the past half hour trying to find one unifying aspect to all of these things, and I can’t. Hence, I’m Peter King-ing it again. (Which is okay, because the man is a genius--why didn’t I start reading him earlier in my life? Although he has gotten a bit carried away with the “Mock Trial Notes.” Maybe that’s because I’m jealous--my parents never bragged about my Model UN-ness and Debate Team-ness like that. This is the closest my parents came to bragging: My mom: “Uh, yeah, Katie’s away this weekend. She’s at that Model UN thing…no, it’s not modeling. It’s countries, they pretend they’re countries, she wears a skirt…and she argues with people.” My dad would then break in, “She LIKES to argue. She should be a lawyer. She loves to argue with me.” I love my parents. Ask them what my major is, I dare you. Mom: “Uh…there was the sports thing….but she doesn’t do that anymore…even though I think she should…” Dad: “She should be a LAWYER! She’s gonna be a lawyer, she’s just arguing with me again. She’s just rebelling. She’ll turn around when she realizes I’m right.”)
Where was I? Oh yeah, saying I’m going to Peter-King this. Okay.
--There’s an epidemic going around Take One Video/Bokays (aka, “the store,” the store I co-manage in the New Union). Two of my co-workers ended relationships in the past week. This now means, as far as I know, that the entire staff of the store is single. Guys of Binghamton University: along with renting movies, you can now pick up a girl at Take One Video. While supplies last, restrictions apply.
This also led to my boss telling me all the girls should be more like me because “I don’t need men because I’m too busy.” Yee-haw, yet another outside confirmation of my workaholicism. Who wants to be my sponsor in WA?
--Running joke of the week: “This dance is about the battle between good and evil…this dance is about the battle of good and evil….this dance is about the newspaper boys fighting evil…the dance is about good people fighting evil demons…this dance is about the Anglo-Saxons fighting the Vikings, but the Irish are strong and survive and learn to live together with everyone in harmony.”
Ciarra: “I don’t know where the heck she gets this. You know those kids don’t know what the heck she’s saying about the dance. They heard Anglo-Saxons and they’re like, ‘Ooh, Anglo-SEX!”
--For a girl who didn’t stay around long enough to make it to the Parkie courses in my Sports Info and Com major, I felt a tad like a Parkie this week. (I just realized that the use of the word “Parkie” is alienating my whole Binghamton audience. I’ll explain: Students in the communications school at Ithaca are nicknamed “Parkies.” Many of my friends were “Parkies.” I didn’t use it until I started hanging out with Sara, who uses it all the time--she’s an ex-Parkie who then went to H&S. I still go back and forth between IC lingo and BU lingo two years later. The worst is when I call the SA office the SAC, because the two are completely different, but somehow I slip and get the two confused…I don’t think transferring was good for my poor brain.)
But anyway, as I mentioned at the beginning, I was Miss Publicity for CDT. Thanks to my Homecoming connections, I was able to get Gail from University Publications and Marketing to help me with publicizing our Saturday performance. I wrote press releases, called and e-mailed people, designed advertising, and, the crème-de-la-crème, got interviewed in the studio by our CBS affiliate here. Yep, that was me on Thursday afternoon, chatting it up with Francesca whats-her-face. I realized after that I needed more make-up--I looked like I belonged as an extra in The Hours.
But it all worked--if you live in the Binghamton area (outside of the university, that is) and didn’t at least glance over something about CDT, then you obviously shun all forms of media. We had the biggest Saturday performance, profit-wise, ever. Initial numbers indicate that we brought in almost $900 more than last year’s dismal showing! Attendance wise, we doubled from last year. (I raised ticket prices when I took over as Financial Manager--it was sorely needed budget wise.) Although, there can always be more: when I presented our faculty advisor with my initial numbers, she looked sad. “I was hoping for $2,000 in profit.”
Bah, humbug. Given what other forms of entertainment we were up against, I’m rather proud of our showing. To quote Brian, “I rule.”
--This “Mark Brunell going to the Redskins” thing led me to throw my throw pillow at Sportscenter Thursday night when it scrolled on the ticker. For one, the Redskins were set at quarterback--not only did they have Ramsey, they had one of the Hasselbecks, the one who is married to the new girl on The View, making them the heirs to the famous mediocre QB-actress throne currently held by Rodney Peete and Holly Robinson Peete. They don’t need a QB who has had some pretty bad injuries--and they had to be bad, because any QB with a style like Steve Young and with time served under Brett Favre is going to sit with anything less than decapitatzation--who may be at the end of his career (and that stinks, cause Brunell is what, 33?). The only thing I can think of, and this came to me tonight after I finally got around to thinking about sports again after the week-o-dance, is that the Redskins want to set up a St. Louis situation--if one falters, you have a backup who should be a starter to fill in. But why would you do that when your existing backup (the Hasselbeck) just needs more time (at least I think), and your starter is promising and finally healthy? That’s bad front office stuff. I feel as if I’m missing something here, and I very well might be, because I was in artsy-land all week. If I am missing something, please let me know.
And of course, this leads to what I wanted to happen to Brunell, which was my patented “Kat’s Well-Intentioned-But-In-Reality-Really-Bad Joke of the Week.” I thought I had read something on “The Daily Quickie” on ESPN.com saying that rumour had it that the Niners might waive Garcia. Now, news like that was enough for me to allow myself to eat mozzarella sticks (at over 1000 calories, I only allow myself to eat them on VERY special occasions). Well, I had this crazy idea for the Niners, and if you aren’t the most knowledgeable about your mid-90s football, it can be explained by my Top 5 Hottest QBs list I had a few weeks ago (it’s still up--just go to the 1/24/04 entry): The Niners could get rid of Garcia, sign Brunell, and let him keep his number 8. Don’t sign Owens (not like they’re going to anyway) and somehow get back Rice. Volia! I get to sit back and pretend that I’m 13 again.
My poor mom, I told her this over the phone, and she was quiet. “Uh-huh, honey…now would Dad get that? I don’t get it. Who is he again? And by the way, who is this A-Rod fellow?”
“Wrong sport Mom.”
“Oh, I was hoping the Bills could get him. Are people angry about this?”
“Yeah, Mom.”
“Ahh…do you like him?”
“A-Rod? Mom, I don’t like anything having to do with the Yankees.”
“I know honey. The Yankees stink.”
“Mom, you’re only saying that because Uncle Sean likes them.”
“They stink.”
Thank you, Verizon, for letting me have these conversations more often. Unlimited nights and weekends=the best invention since the internet.
--Sara took great offense to me saying last week that my children will not play basketball. I give you this in response: I’m 5 foot 1. The tallest person in my family (both sides, mind you) is my Uncle Sean, my mom’s brother, who is close to 6 foot. How the heck that happened, I don’t know. (Well, my grandmother is pretty tall, so I guess that’s how. And when I say tall, I mean average.) My immediate family lines up like this:
Dad = 5’6
Megan = 5’2 ½
Mom = 5’1 ½
Me = 5’1
Sam = shortest boy in the 3rd grade
I have this inkling that unless I marry Shaq (ewww), or unless my genes completely get crushed by my future husband’s, my children will be of the running back, not the point guard, variety.
--I have grand aspirations now that Children’s Dance Theatre is for the most part done. I join the SA on Tuesday night as the new Mountainview Rep at Large. I also plan on sleeping, eating full meals, and maybe actually doing work for my classes. I also have decided that there are three more things I want to do in the 80-something days before I leave college:
1) Dance one more time somewhere.
2) Write a guest column in the Pipe Dream (school newspaper).
3) Be on the sports show on BTV (aka, avenge the BTV dating show disaster I participated in last year. Blech. I can’t believe I did that.)
We will see if I get those done. I may not, seeing that I have that little thing called a thesis to write.
--Next week: The BU vs. BU basketball game! The Bear-Kats (hahahahaha, I’ll be here all week) versus the Terriers. The cats versus the dogs. Wow, I’m just trading wimpy mascots.
And I leave you with my quote of the week: "I can not have sex with a Harvard acceptance letter!" (not that I've gotten one yet or that I will).
Where's the sign up for Workaholics Anonoymous again?
Wednesday, February 18, 2004
Note 2/18/04: Okay, I realize that my rant here is so completely wrong. It works on the assumption that I am better and more deserving than everyone else of having a boyfriend, and just better in general, and that's not right. So disregard the whole theory, or read it and laugh at it because the metaphor is hystarically funny.
All this was was me being bitter and jealous after sitting at CDT all night and hearing all the other girls talk about their boyfriends and hook-ups. Add that to being terribly tired and volia, this rant. Bleh. I apologize.
The only reasons why I'm keeping this up are:
1) I want everyone to know about my pajama pants. They are the most exciting thing to happen to me since my first two grad school acceptance letters.
2) There are parts of this that are amazingly funny. I mean, come on, read it and try not to laugh.
3) Everyone else who writes writes something about being relationship-less at some point in time. So here is my one. I promise that I'll never do it again.
So you have been warned. Read this, or wait until this weekend when I find something less voyeuristic and annoying to talk about.
The Icing on the Cake…aka, Katherine’s One Time Only Mid-Week Rant That Shows That She Might Actually Have Feelings
I bring you this special mid-week rant because I feel like it.
I bought new pajama pants today. I was buying some odds and ends for Children’s Dance Theatre at Dick’s Sporting Goods, and I happened upon these cute pink and dark gray football pajama pants. They are amazingly cute, and they were on clearance. Double score. As my little brother said when he saw them, “If they had been purple instead of pink, that would have been scary because then they would have been (made for) you!”
Now, I come back from Children’s Dance Theatre tonight and want to change into comfortable clothes, so I change into the pants and my Red Sox t-shirt. I sit down at my desk, read ESPN.com quickly and play with my 49ers Koosh ball before finishing my reading for class. Then it hit me.
Look at me. Why am I single?
By no reason should a guy want to date me solely because I like sports. No. I am not interested in sports because it is a way to get guys. People tend to make that assumption, and it’s wrong. It is true that I first got into football because I had a mega-crush on Steve Young, but let me remind you that when I was six, I was begging my mother to stay up late to watch the 1988 Winter Olympics. I was the girl who made podiums out of boxes, took her reading contest medals, and made my parents stage medal ceremonies for me after I skid around our tiled kitchen with footie pajamas on or jumped off the end of the couch. I’m the girl who in fourth grade wrote fake news articles about Kristi Yamaguchi and playing kickball on the School #52 playground. I was the girl, who when my dance teacher let us do our own choreography, would jump around double-axel style and do cartwheels, trying to make my dance a sport. I got into hockey because it was the only sport (except for figure skating) I saw live on a regular basis. I never got into this because of guys. I got into it because I liked it, and continued it because in my childhood and adolescent quest to be the complete opposite of everyone else, it set me apart.
No, no guy should like me just because I’m going to sit down and watch Sportscenter with them or because I won’t bug them to pay more attention to me and not “the game.” I want a guy to like me because I’m cute, nice, successful, hysterical and a just-tolerable amount of perky. The sports stuff is just the icing on the cake.
With that out of the way, I would think that the fact that I’m sitting here in this outfit would say something. I’m not wearing some lacy camisole top with a fake tan talking on my cell phone. I’m not consulting SparkNotes. I’m completely down to earth. I’m wearing this cute little outfit, my hair in a cheerleader-type ponytail, and I don’t care that I look 16 and not 22 at this moment. And I can make a very convincing argument right now about why the Bills should draft a QB and not trade for Drew Henson and make a completely unconvincing, but completely hysterical argument about why Steve Young is better than Joe Montana.
You care about the type of cake, about if the consistency of the cake is moist or dry, sure. But don’t we look for the icing? As children, didn’t we always want the piece with the flowers because it had that extra icing?
So I guess what I’m saying is this: Sure, there are thousands of sweet, nice, funny, down-to-earth twenty-something girls out there for guys to pick from. But don’t I have that little something extra that makes me just that more interesting, appealing, tolerable? I’m not better than other girls, because they all have their own “icing,” but wouldn’t my interests point to something else, like a tolerance, laid-back-ness, a easy-going-ness that comes with it? Isn’t my “icing” appealing to anyone? It obviously isn’t, for I’ve been single since late 2002. It is now the middle of February 2004. Sure, I've had more at bats in the past year than I ever did before, but I've struck out on all of them.
Man, this article so sounds like it’s from Sex and the City. I apologize.
I’m not one to rant like this. I mean, I rant, but not about the stuff I’m feeling. I’m not sensitive like that. But I had to get it off my chest. Everyone wishes they had someone, even workaholic driven 22 year old seniors in college who don’t have the time for a boyfriend. And I’m wishing I had someone.
But give me my thesis, my jobs, my reading and my Sportscenter, and I’ll get over it tomorrow.
All this was was me being bitter and jealous after sitting at CDT all night and hearing all the other girls talk about their boyfriends and hook-ups. Add that to being terribly tired and volia, this rant. Bleh. I apologize.
The only reasons why I'm keeping this up are:
1) I want everyone to know about my pajama pants. They are the most exciting thing to happen to me since my first two grad school acceptance letters.
2) There are parts of this that are amazingly funny. I mean, come on, read it and try not to laugh.
3) Everyone else who writes writes something about being relationship-less at some point in time. So here is my one. I promise that I'll never do it again.
So you have been warned. Read this, or wait until this weekend when I find something less voyeuristic and annoying to talk about.
The Icing on the Cake…aka, Katherine’s One Time Only Mid-Week Rant That Shows That She Might Actually Have Feelings
I bring you this special mid-week rant because I feel like it.
I bought new pajama pants today. I was buying some odds and ends for Children’s Dance Theatre at Dick’s Sporting Goods, and I happened upon these cute pink and dark gray football pajama pants. They are amazingly cute, and they were on clearance. Double score. As my little brother said when he saw them, “If they had been purple instead of pink, that would have been scary because then they would have been (made for) you!”
Now, I come back from Children’s Dance Theatre tonight and want to change into comfortable clothes, so I change into the pants and my Red Sox t-shirt. I sit down at my desk, read ESPN.com quickly and play with my 49ers Koosh ball before finishing my reading for class. Then it hit me.
Look at me. Why am I single?
By no reason should a guy want to date me solely because I like sports. No. I am not interested in sports because it is a way to get guys. People tend to make that assumption, and it’s wrong. It is true that I first got into football because I had a mega-crush on Steve Young, but let me remind you that when I was six, I was begging my mother to stay up late to watch the 1988 Winter Olympics. I was the girl who made podiums out of boxes, took her reading contest medals, and made my parents stage medal ceremonies for me after I skid around our tiled kitchen with footie pajamas on or jumped off the end of the couch. I’m the girl who in fourth grade wrote fake news articles about Kristi Yamaguchi and playing kickball on the School #52 playground. I was the girl, who when my dance teacher let us do our own choreography, would jump around double-axel style and do cartwheels, trying to make my dance a sport. I got into hockey because it was the only sport (except for figure skating) I saw live on a regular basis. I never got into this because of guys. I got into it because I liked it, and continued it because in my childhood and adolescent quest to be the complete opposite of everyone else, it set me apart.
No, no guy should like me just because I’m going to sit down and watch Sportscenter with them or because I won’t bug them to pay more attention to me and not “the game.” I want a guy to like me because I’m cute, nice, successful, hysterical and a just-tolerable amount of perky. The sports stuff is just the icing on the cake.
With that out of the way, I would think that the fact that I’m sitting here in this outfit would say something. I’m not wearing some lacy camisole top with a fake tan talking on my cell phone. I’m not consulting SparkNotes. I’m completely down to earth. I’m wearing this cute little outfit, my hair in a cheerleader-type ponytail, and I don’t care that I look 16 and not 22 at this moment. And I can make a very convincing argument right now about why the Bills should draft a QB and not trade for Drew Henson and make a completely unconvincing, but completely hysterical argument about why Steve Young is better than Joe Montana.
You care about the type of cake, about if the consistency of the cake is moist or dry, sure. But don’t we look for the icing? As children, didn’t we always want the piece with the flowers because it had that extra icing?
So I guess what I’m saying is this: Sure, there are thousands of sweet, nice, funny, down-to-earth twenty-something girls out there for guys to pick from. But don’t I have that little something extra that makes me just that more interesting, appealing, tolerable? I’m not better than other girls, because they all have their own “icing,” but wouldn’t my interests point to something else, like a tolerance, laid-back-ness, a easy-going-ness that comes with it? Isn’t my “icing” appealing to anyone? It obviously isn’t, for I’ve been single since late 2002. It is now the middle of February 2004. Sure, I've had more at bats in the past year than I ever did before, but I've struck out on all of them.
Man, this article so sounds like it’s from Sex and the City. I apologize.
I’m not one to rant like this. I mean, I rant, but not about the stuff I’m feeling. I’m not sensitive like that. But I had to get it off my chest. Everyone wishes they had someone, even workaholic driven 22 year old seniors in college who don’t have the time for a boyfriend. And I’m wishing I had someone.
But give me my thesis, my jobs, my reading and my Sportscenter, and I’ll get over it tomorrow.
Saturday, February 14, 2004
Rochestarians Are So Obviously Not Americans...and Other Thoughts
So I was planning to write this post on the I Love NY Gymnastics Cup, which was held at the good ol' 70s style Broome County Veteran's Memorial Arena tonight. I've been meaning to go to this for the last three years, and I figured this year, being my last here, would be as good of a time as ever. However, I kind of forgot that I work for a gift and video store, and that there is no way you can't be chained to such a place on Valentine's Day. So I didn't get to go. It's okay, because the store had a VERY successful day, and I made a lot of money. Yes, I'm greedy. Live with it.
However, seeing that I didn't get to go cheer on Penev's (formerly Eastside) Gymnastics, my old gym, I feel like I have nothing to write about. I planned all week to go to this and then write about it on my blog. Call it my good ol' sports journalistic aspirations. I was looking forward to that just for the fact that I could write it up on the blog. But, I'm going to have to Peter King this entry (no one is going to get that reference at all, I'm sorry) and do a random "Things I Think I Think," because people actually read this, and I imagine people would like to read a new entry.
So here are my random, somewhat sports related thoughts of the week:
-Mike Malarkey looks like Kevin Costner. I discovered this while watching Sportscenter on Thursday night. I pointed this out to my mother. "Oh my gosh!!! I never thought of it that way! I think I like him now." I, for one, did not know my mother enjoyed Kevin Costner, but I guess she does. Well, at least Malarkey now has one supporter in Western New York. The rest of us are still weary, including my father, who hates anything having to do with the Pittsburgh Steelers. The guy HATES them. His hatred is much like the one Red Sox fans hold for Yankees fans. An entertaining thing to do during my adolescence was to watch my father go off on seeing Terry Bradshaw on Fox NFL Sunday. Absolutely hysterical.
-I was at work in the office on Friday afternoon, and somehow I made the following statement to Sean (I forgot how we got to this point): "When I was a young teenager, my dream was to go to Brigham Young University, study journalism, get to cover the 2002 Winter Olympics, and become Student Body President my senior year there. And as Student Body President, I would get to introduce the commencement speaker, who would be Steve Young. Then he'd hire me to help him write his autobiography."
Wow, 14 year old me would be REALLY disappointed at my life now.
However, I give you this web site. Members of the Binghamton University community, I'd like at least one of my dreams to come true. Please take this into consideration. (I never ever went searching for this information--I was searching the web for some other government stuff and happened upon it. I think that's a sign.) All I've got to say is that if Ithaca College gets Scott Hamilton for what would of been my commencement if I had stayed, I WANT SOMEONE MEGA COOL.
-Rochester, NY is getting to be a horrible place to live. Example #456 would be the murder in front of my father's machine shop on Friday morning. Uh...Dad, I love you, and I know this is a great job and all, but...I'm not picking you up from work ever. (Why would I have to pick him up from work, you ask? Four drivers, one car. Do the math. If you want the car in the Hasenauer family, you gotta be willing to pick other people up.)
-Yes, I watched Thursday Night Hockey in the Great Room on the Mega-TV Thursday night. And yes, I was rudely tossed out by people who DID NOT BELIEVE I was watching hockey. This is 2004. Girls watch hockey. Last time I checked, my Room fee covered that TV as much as everybody else's. And I work for Residential Life. So really now people.
But that's not the point. The point is that I saw Jeremy Roenick shatter his jaw. That was scary. That was "Steve Young being leveled by Aeneas Williams" scary. The puck went flying from the face off, ricocheted off his cheek, and he just dropped to the ice and didn't move. Yuck. Yet, I still would allow any future children I may have to play hockey.
Marsha thinks I'm nuts. "I can't believe you'd let your kids play something that violent," Marsha told me after I was telling her about the injury.
"Why not? If I ever have a son, he's playing football in the fall, hockey in the winter, and Little League baseball in the spring." I answered.
"That's 'cause your American." she responded.
"No," I quipped back. "If I were American, it would be football, basketball and baseball. But because I'm from Rochester, NY, the basketball is replaced by hockey."
-On that tangent, I'm letting you all know now: Sam Hasenauer (my little brother) will be a starter on a Slamball team in 14 years. He likes to play basketball and he likes to jump on the bed.
-And on other Hasenauer family basketball related news, I made a shot from six feet into the wastepaper basket at work today with a flower stem. Uh-huh, I rock. That's my prime example of senioritis: wastepaper basketball at the store.
-Happy Valentine's Day. It's nights like this I wish I had a boyfriend. Or the NFL Network, which one of my friends keeps singing the praises of. Or all my tapes of the Olympics. (They're in the attic at home.) But really, I made a lot of people happy at work today, and because of that, I'm not at all bitter. People were happy, they had the cutest plans and the cutest stories and the best smiles. I love it.
And I've also found that when I'm feeling the need for a boyfriend, the best remedy is to look at my resume. Conceited? Just a little. But heck, I've worked my butt off for years. I deserve to feel a little egotistical at times.
I've got to get going. Marsha is begging us all to take pictures of her clubbing outfit. I'd join her out, but I'm so tired, one drop of alcohol would put me to sleep. That's what I get for running around doing deliveries all day. To bed and reading I go!
*****************************
Later: I just had to add this, because I thought it was pretty funny. I wanted to go to bed, but decided that it's a Saturday night, and I'm 22 years old, so I shouldn't go to bed before 1am. So I decide to keep myself up, instead of doing schoolwork (which might put me to sleep, and therefore, defeat my goal), I decide to play Madden. So I'm playing Madden (2002 Niners vs. 1994 Niners--because I wasn't feeling very creative tonight), and I miss a field goal. That's my favourite mini-camp drill to play, so that I missed it is disapointing. And so I say, "I'm pouting!" After I realize how I'm brooding, I turn to Regina and say, "I'm such a girlie girl when I play Madden."
And then I thought about what I had just said. I don't think the creators ever expected that sentance to come out of anyone's mouth while playing Madden.
(By the way, to further support this theory of my girlie girlness, I went back and did a field goal mini-camp drill and totally screwed up. It's just not my night with field goals. While I kept missing, I said, "Gosh, I'm going to throw a hissy fit." I'm so Legally Blonde at times that it's just not right.)
So I was planning to write this post on the I Love NY Gymnastics Cup, which was held at the good ol' 70s style Broome County Veteran's Memorial Arena tonight. I've been meaning to go to this for the last three years, and I figured this year, being my last here, would be as good of a time as ever. However, I kind of forgot that I work for a gift and video store, and that there is no way you can't be chained to such a place on Valentine's Day. So I didn't get to go. It's okay, because the store had a VERY successful day, and I made a lot of money. Yes, I'm greedy. Live with it.
However, seeing that I didn't get to go cheer on Penev's (formerly Eastside) Gymnastics, my old gym, I feel like I have nothing to write about. I planned all week to go to this and then write about it on my blog. Call it my good ol' sports journalistic aspirations. I was looking forward to that just for the fact that I could write it up on the blog. But, I'm going to have to Peter King this entry (no one is going to get that reference at all, I'm sorry) and do a random "Things I Think I Think," because people actually read this, and I imagine people would like to read a new entry.
So here are my random, somewhat sports related thoughts of the week:
-Mike Malarkey looks like Kevin Costner. I discovered this while watching Sportscenter on Thursday night. I pointed this out to my mother. "Oh my gosh!!! I never thought of it that way! I think I like him now." I, for one, did not know my mother enjoyed Kevin Costner, but I guess she does. Well, at least Malarkey now has one supporter in Western New York. The rest of us are still weary, including my father, who hates anything having to do with the Pittsburgh Steelers. The guy HATES them. His hatred is much like the one Red Sox fans hold for Yankees fans. An entertaining thing to do during my adolescence was to watch my father go off on seeing Terry Bradshaw on Fox NFL Sunday. Absolutely hysterical.
-I was at work in the office on Friday afternoon, and somehow I made the following statement to Sean (I forgot how we got to this point): "When I was a young teenager, my dream was to go to Brigham Young University, study journalism, get to cover the 2002 Winter Olympics, and become Student Body President my senior year there. And as Student Body President, I would get to introduce the commencement speaker, who would be Steve Young. Then he'd hire me to help him write his autobiography."
Wow, 14 year old me would be REALLY disappointed at my life now.
However, I give you this web site. Members of the Binghamton University community, I'd like at least one of my dreams to come true. Please take this into consideration. (I never ever went searching for this information--I was searching the web for some other government stuff and happened upon it. I think that's a sign.) All I've got to say is that if Ithaca College gets Scott Hamilton for what would of been my commencement if I had stayed, I WANT SOMEONE MEGA COOL.
-Rochester, NY is getting to be a horrible place to live. Example #456 would be the murder in front of my father's machine shop on Friday morning. Uh...Dad, I love you, and I know this is a great job and all, but...I'm not picking you up from work ever. (Why would I have to pick him up from work, you ask? Four drivers, one car. Do the math. If you want the car in the Hasenauer family, you gotta be willing to pick other people up.)
-Yes, I watched Thursday Night Hockey in the Great Room on the Mega-TV Thursday night. And yes, I was rudely tossed out by people who DID NOT BELIEVE I was watching hockey. This is 2004. Girls watch hockey. Last time I checked, my Room fee covered that TV as much as everybody else's. And I work for Residential Life. So really now people.
But that's not the point. The point is that I saw Jeremy Roenick shatter his jaw. That was scary. That was "Steve Young being leveled by Aeneas Williams" scary. The puck went flying from the face off, ricocheted off his cheek, and he just dropped to the ice and didn't move. Yuck. Yet, I still would allow any future children I may have to play hockey.
Marsha thinks I'm nuts. "I can't believe you'd let your kids play something that violent," Marsha told me after I was telling her about the injury.
"Why not? If I ever have a son, he's playing football in the fall, hockey in the winter, and Little League baseball in the spring." I answered.
"That's 'cause your American." she responded.
"No," I quipped back. "If I were American, it would be football, basketball and baseball. But because I'm from Rochester, NY, the basketball is replaced by hockey."
-On that tangent, I'm letting you all know now: Sam Hasenauer (my little brother) will be a starter on a Slamball team in 14 years. He likes to play basketball and he likes to jump on the bed.
-And on other Hasenauer family basketball related news, I made a shot from six feet into the wastepaper basket at work today with a flower stem. Uh-huh, I rock. That's my prime example of senioritis: wastepaper basketball at the store.
-Happy Valentine's Day. It's nights like this I wish I had a boyfriend. Or the NFL Network, which one of my friends keeps singing the praises of. Or all my tapes of the Olympics. (They're in the attic at home.) But really, I made a lot of people happy at work today, and because of that, I'm not at all bitter. People were happy, they had the cutest plans and the cutest stories and the best smiles. I love it.
And I've also found that when I'm feeling the need for a boyfriend, the best remedy is to look at my resume. Conceited? Just a little. But heck, I've worked my butt off for years. I deserve to feel a little egotistical at times.
I've got to get going. Marsha is begging us all to take pictures of her clubbing outfit. I'd join her out, but I'm so tired, one drop of alcohol would put me to sleep. That's what I get for running around doing deliveries all day. To bed and reading I go!
*****************************
Later: I just had to add this, because I thought it was pretty funny. I wanted to go to bed, but decided that it's a Saturday night, and I'm 22 years old, so I shouldn't go to bed before 1am. So I decide to keep myself up, instead of doing schoolwork (which might put me to sleep, and therefore, defeat my goal), I decide to play Madden. So I'm playing Madden (2002 Niners vs. 1994 Niners--because I wasn't feeling very creative tonight), and I miss a field goal. That's my favourite mini-camp drill to play, so that I missed it is disapointing. And so I say, "I'm pouting!" After I realize how I'm brooding, I turn to Regina and say, "I'm such a girlie girl when I play Madden."
And then I thought about what I had just said. I don't think the creators ever expected that sentance to come out of anyone's mouth while playing Madden.
(By the way, to further support this theory of my girlie girlness, I went back and did a field goal mini-camp drill and totally screwed up. It's just not my night with field goals. While I kept missing, I said, "Gosh, I'm going to throw a hissy fit." I'm so Legally Blonde at times that it's just not right.)
Saturday, February 07, 2004
Kat Goes to a BU Hockey Game...Alone
There is one thing about Rochester that I've always loved and that I always miss, and that's the sheer number of ice rinks, hockey teams, skating clubs, and the like--if it has to do with ice, we have it. I mean, we have at least 10-12 ice rinks in the area, and every one is always booked. There's always all this worry when new rinks open up, that older ones are going to feel it, but they never do. Everyone knows someone who plays hockey or figure skates or even curls (as in curling). My cousins play hockey, I've figure skated recreationally since I was young, and my father's tool shop has fourth row off center season tickets to the Amerks game that they divy up among the workers. This is a town where everyone my mom knows rushed to get digital cable after the Empire Network was moved from basic cable to the digital sports package, because you can't see Sabres and Amerks games anywhere else.
I hadn't seen a hockey game since last May, and while I was home, I didn't get to go because my father had to work late. I would of gone alone, but if he was working late, that means the car was called. (It stinks to have 1 car for 4 drivers. Really kinda does.) So, when someone illegally posted a flyer about a Binghamton University club hockey game on one of my bullitian boards, I was interested. It would cost less than a B Sens game, and direct transportation was available--the team was renting a bus to take fans to the rink. (Let me take an aside here and say that there are 3, count them, 3 indoor rinks in the Binghamton area: the Arena--which is just for concerts and the B Sens, the new BCC rink, and the Polar Cap in Chenango Bridge, 15-20 minutes outside of Binghamton, where the game was. There is one seasonal rink, but I don't have a clue where exactly it is. Now, compare this to Ithaca, where there were two indoor and one seasonal--which means, proportionally, I think Binghamton is out of wack.) So I decided this was how I was going to spend my Friday night.
Now, I tried to recruit people to come with me, but hockey isn't really a downstater thing. Actually, it's not really a "anyone not from Western NY, Minniesota, Michigan, and Canada" thing. So I went alone. I felt a bit odd--but then again, I've attended several sporting events alone, especially since moving to Binghamton (Binghamton is not the biggest sports campus in the world, unfortunately for me, apparently fortunately to everyone else on campus.)
Here are my most pressing observations about the game:
-The bus driver was late, old, a townie, and disgusting. He also charged us more than had been advertised.
-In talking with a girl who was also alone, but was going because her boyfriend was on the team, these games are popular among freshmen and sophmores under the age of 21 because the Polar Cap has a bar and their bartender must be especially bad at being able to pick out fakes. Hooray. My little orientees running around with NO KNOWLEDGE OF HOCKEY WHATSOEVER getting wasted on bad beer. It was true--most of the people there stayed in the bar area and drank the whole time with their backs turned away from the game. The bar area, however, was nicely heated...
-...but the arena was colder than outside. My aunt had warned me about this. Her sons (my cousins) play travel hockey, and have played in tournaments at the Polar Cap several times. "That is the coldest arena I have ever sat in--it's at least ten degrees colder than outside," she always says. It is--I was shivering and was forced in the bar area at times because I was chattering so much that I wasn't able to focus on the game.
-Note to all: PLEASE DO NOT MAKE OUT AT A HOCKEY GAME. I know that you need to keep warm, but please, don't do it that way. I am sitting in the stands, watching the third period, and this couple in front of me starts necking. Now, don't get me wrong, dinner, a hockey game and an evening of making out sounds pretty darn good to me. But don't mix the making out with the hockey game. I beg you. It's awkward.
-Funniest comment of the night: "I don't know about hockey. I do think we should win because we have prettier uniforms." -one of the many drunk freshmen. (And you thought I was shallow with my "5 Hottest QBs" List, but I have been beaten.)
-Second best: BU fans were seriously jeering the Syracuse goalie. A few rows up sat two girls cheering for Syracuse, and I think they had to be girlfriends of players. One girl yells down at the jeering fans at one point, "Can't you guys say anything NICE?!"
-Oh, the game. Okay, for one, this is seriously club hockey. These guys are...okay. I'm being nice. They are...obviously not ready for non-club hockey. But the game wasn't bad. Binghamton was on a nice scoring streak for a while in the second, and then the rhythm was broken by a BU guy crossing the crease and just completely leveling the Syracuse goalie. However, Syracuse is a pretty dirty team themselves, and those officials aren't exactly ready for prime-time work either. I haven't seen more blantant offenses not being called since the Cowboys used to beat up on the Niners in the 92 and 93 seasons. We won, 3-2. Binghamton totally mailed in the last period and was lucky to pull it out, because Syracuse came dangerously close with 30 seconds to go.
-On the way back, the bus stopped at the clubs downtown and house parties. Gotta love the drinking culture of this campus. Remember when I used to worry that Ithaca was becoming a party school? Well, gosh darn it, Binghamton has them beat by a ton. It's sad. Glad I only have 100 days left here.
All in all, it was enjoyable. I got my hockey fix, which was important. Next time, however, I'm wearing four layers instead of three, and I'm dragging someone--ANYONE! I don't like having to face my little drunken orientees by myself.
And next year, me and the Beanpot tournament have a date. GO TERRIERS...or wherever I end up going.
****
On this tangent, I must bring up a point. I was seriously checked out tonight by two Syracuse guys. Very flattering, because they were both pretty nice themselves. But it reaffirms my new theory. See, I go home to Rochester, and I get checked out. Guys seriously hit on me. New Year's was a prime example. So is going to Wegmans (Wegmans is a prime pick-up location in the Rochester area, in particular the one on East Ave.) At Ithaca, I had several interested guys. Whenever I'm up in Boston, I seriously get hit on and checked out.
And then I come here, and nothing. I couldn't get a Binghamton guy to look at me if I walked by offering free beer. And my theory is this: Bing guys just don't like me. I'm definitely a Western New Yorker--from what I wear and my lack of serious blonde highlights up to the minute I open my mouth. Unless I want to walk around doing my Allie Hilfiger impression (which, I must say, is quite good--for those of you not aware, there was a show on MTV called "Rich Girls," and it followed the daughter of Tommy Hilfiger and her best friend around for a summer. It was the best show MTV has ever made. My family had "Rich Girls" nights over break. My father loves the show because he thinks I look like Allie Hilfiger. I really don't, but I'll take what I can get.) and get blonde highlights and not snarl anytime someone mentions how absolutely wonderful Manhattan is, I don't think I will ever appeal to these Binghamton guys. They want downstaters. Even the upstaters want downstaters. And they have downstater radar or something. I'm obviously attractive to guys in a number of other geographic areas, just not here.
Something to think about...
There is one thing about Rochester that I've always loved and that I always miss, and that's the sheer number of ice rinks, hockey teams, skating clubs, and the like--if it has to do with ice, we have it. I mean, we have at least 10-12 ice rinks in the area, and every one is always booked. There's always all this worry when new rinks open up, that older ones are going to feel it, but they never do. Everyone knows someone who plays hockey or figure skates or even curls (as in curling). My cousins play hockey, I've figure skated recreationally since I was young, and my father's tool shop has fourth row off center season tickets to the Amerks game that they divy up among the workers. This is a town where everyone my mom knows rushed to get digital cable after the Empire Network was moved from basic cable to the digital sports package, because you can't see Sabres and Amerks games anywhere else.
I hadn't seen a hockey game since last May, and while I was home, I didn't get to go because my father had to work late. I would of gone alone, but if he was working late, that means the car was called. (It stinks to have 1 car for 4 drivers. Really kinda does.) So, when someone illegally posted a flyer about a Binghamton University club hockey game on one of my bullitian boards, I was interested. It would cost less than a B Sens game, and direct transportation was available--the team was renting a bus to take fans to the rink. (Let me take an aside here and say that there are 3, count them, 3 indoor rinks in the Binghamton area: the Arena--which is just for concerts and the B Sens, the new BCC rink, and the Polar Cap in Chenango Bridge, 15-20 minutes outside of Binghamton, where the game was. There is one seasonal rink, but I don't have a clue where exactly it is. Now, compare this to Ithaca, where there were two indoor and one seasonal--which means, proportionally, I think Binghamton is out of wack.) So I decided this was how I was going to spend my Friday night.
Now, I tried to recruit people to come with me, but hockey isn't really a downstater thing. Actually, it's not really a "anyone not from Western NY, Minniesota, Michigan, and Canada" thing. So I went alone. I felt a bit odd--but then again, I've attended several sporting events alone, especially since moving to Binghamton (Binghamton is not the biggest sports campus in the world, unfortunately for me, apparently fortunately to everyone else on campus.)
Here are my most pressing observations about the game:
-The bus driver was late, old, a townie, and disgusting. He also charged us more than had been advertised.
-In talking with a girl who was also alone, but was going because her boyfriend was on the team, these games are popular among freshmen and sophmores under the age of 21 because the Polar Cap has a bar and their bartender must be especially bad at being able to pick out fakes. Hooray. My little orientees running around with NO KNOWLEDGE OF HOCKEY WHATSOEVER getting wasted on bad beer. It was true--most of the people there stayed in the bar area and drank the whole time with their backs turned away from the game. The bar area, however, was nicely heated...
-...but the arena was colder than outside. My aunt had warned me about this. Her sons (my cousins) play travel hockey, and have played in tournaments at the Polar Cap several times. "That is the coldest arena I have ever sat in--it's at least ten degrees colder than outside," she always says. It is--I was shivering and was forced in the bar area at times because I was chattering so much that I wasn't able to focus on the game.
-Note to all: PLEASE DO NOT MAKE OUT AT A HOCKEY GAME. I know that you need to keep warm, but please, don't do it that way. I am sitting in the stands, watching the third period, and this couple in front of me starts necking. Now, don't get me wrong, dinner, a hockey game and an evening of making out sounds pretty darn good to me. But don't mix the making out with the hockey game. I beg you. It's awkward.
-Funniest comment of the night: "I don't know about hockey. I do think we should win because we have prettier uniforms." -one of the many drunk freshmen. (And you thought I was shallow with my "5 Hottest QBs" List, but I have been beaten.)
-Second best: BU fans were seriously jeering the Syracuse goalie. A few rows up sat two girls cheering for Syracuse, and I think they had to be girlfriends of players. One girl yells down at the jeering fans at one point, "Can't you guys say anything NICE?!"
-Oh, the game. Okay, for one, this is seriously club hockey. These guys are...okay. I'm being nice. They are...obviously not ready for non-club hockey. But the game wasn't bad. Binghamton was on a nice scoring streak for a while in the second, and then the rhythm was broken by a BU guy crossing the crease and just completely leveling the Syracuse goalie. However, Syracuse is a pretty dirty team themselves, and those officials aren't exactly ready for prime-time work either. I haven't seen more blantant offenses not being called since the Cowboys used to beat up on the Niners in the 92 and 93 seasons. We won, 3-2. Binghamton totally mailed in the last period and was lucky to pull it out, because Syracuse came dangerously close with 30 seconds to go.
-On the way back, the bus stopped at the clubs downtown and house parties. Gotta love the drinking culture of this campus. Remember when I used to worry that Ithaca was becoming a party school? Well, gosh darn it, Binghamton has them beat by a ton. It's sad. Glad I only have 100 days left here.
All in all, it was enjoyable. I got my hockey fix, which was important. Next time, however, I'm wearing four layers instead of three, and I'm dragging someone--ANYONE! I don't like having to face my little drunken orientees by myself.
And next year, me and the Beanpot tournament have a date. GO TERRIERS...or wherever I end up going.
****
On this tangent, I must bring up a point. I was seriously checked out tonight by two Syracuse guys. Very flattering, because they were both pretty nice themselves. But it reaffirms my new theory. See, I go home to Rochester, and I get checked out. Guys seriously hit on me. New Year's was a prime example. So is going to Wegmans (Wegmans is a prime pick-up location in the Rochester area, in particular the one on East Ave.) At Ithaca, I had several interested guys. Whenever I'm up in Boston, I seriously get hit on and checked out.
And then I come here, and nothing. I couldn't get a Binghamton guy to look at me if I walked by offering free beer. And my theory is this: Bing guys just don't like me. I'm definitely a Western New Yorker--from what I wear and my lack of serious blonde highlights up to the minute I open my mouth. Unless I want to walk around doing my Allie Hilfiger impression (which, I must say, is quite good--for those of you not aware, there was a show on MTV called "Rich Girls," and it followed the daughter of Tommy Hilfiger and her best friend around for a summer. It was the best show MTV has ever made. My family had "Rich Girls" nights over break. My father loves the show because he thinks I look like Allie Hilfiger. I really don't, but I'll take what I can get.) and get blonde highlights and not snarl anytime someone mentions how absolutely wonderful Manhattan is, I don't think I will ever appeal to these Binghamton guys. They want downstaters. Even the upstaters want downstaters. And they have downstater radar or something. I'm obviously attractive to guys in a number of other geographic areas, just not here.
Something to think about...
Monday, February 02, 2004
Okay, screw it, I forgive the blond highlights. The guy has now won more Super Bowl MVP awards than Steve Young. Therefore, I officially give Tom Brady spot #2 on my list of Hot QBs. Sorry, Mark Brunell.
Give me a few days, and I will tell you about what watching the Super Bowl in somewhat football naive suite 115 was like.
Give me a few days, and I will tell you about what watching the Super Bowl in somewhat football naive suite 115 was like.
Sunday, February 01, 2004
Okay, it's Super Bowl Sunday, and I'm taking a break from becoming a permanent fixture in the common room love seat and having my hand stuck to the remote to amend my "Kat's 5 Hottest QBs of All Time" List.
One, I realised that Tom Brady highlights his hair. Uhhh...he's staying in #3, maybe going back a spot just for that. A NFL Quarterback is not allowed to be a metrosexual. I'm sorry. I've highlighted my hair myself once. I've never gotten it done professionally (or even by my mom, who I would consider semi-pro because she did go to cosmatology school for a bit back in the mid-70s). I don't have the time or paitence or desire required to get it done. And I'm a pretty girly girl when it comes to appearance. So...yeah. Minus points for that one.
Two, I feel like I should differenciate between "hot" and "sexy." Steve Young is "hot." He is not, however, "sexy." In Katherine World, "hot" equals handsome (it's just shorter to type) and "sexy" means "I wouldn't mind having sex with him." For many reasons that you can figure out, Steve Young is not "sexy." And no, I am not going to tell you who I think is sexy, because that is a topic for another day...or not. Maybe.
Three, (and this is a big one), I need to add someone onto my list. Marsha and I discovered him during CBS's HORRENDOUS (I mean, it's really really really bad) pre-game show earlier this afternoon. Kyle Boller of the Ravens. He has to be the cutest thing ever. So adorable. Oh my gosh. I hate the Ravens, because I hate Ray Lewis (I am so my dad's daughter), but man, I may have to watch them in secret if Boller comes back to start. I don't know exactly where he fits on this list, because, well, he's an unproven QB, and I feel that you have to be at least mildly successful to be placed on the list (I know what you're going to say, and here's my response: Steve Walsh was successful for a year.) But if he does start and do well at some point, Boller's getting added. Maybe above Brunell. Yeah, he'd be #2. He's better than Brunell. Yeah, wow, he is. Wooooowwwww. Told Sara to keep an eye out, since she is my favourite Maryland-ite, and I think she would enjoy him very much.
Okay, really, I should do work before the Super Bowl starts. Darn ESPN, why can't they have a seven hour long pregame. I hate CBS's. I don't care about freaken Crank Yankers and "the Frankinstein of NFL Players." No. I want football. And please go easy on the sad features--I wept my eyes out at the Trent Dilfer piece on ESPN earlier. I can't handle stories like that at all.
Happy Super Bowl Sunday!
One, I realised that Tom Brady highlights his hair. Uhhh...he's staying in #3, maybe going back a spot just for that. A NFL Quarterback is not allowed to be a metrosexual. I'm sorry. I've highlighted my hair myself once. I've never gotten it done professionally (or even by my mom, who I would consider semi-pro because she did go to cosmatology school for a bit back in the mid-70s). I don't have the time or paitence or desire required to get it done. And I'm a pretty girly girl when it comes to appearance. So...yeah. Minus points for that one.
Two, I feel like I should differenciate between "hot" and "sexy." Steve Young is "hot." He is not, however, "sexy." In Katherine World, "hot" equals handsome (it's just shorter to type) and "sexy" means "I wouldn't mind having sex with him." For many reasons that you can figure out, Steve Young is not "sexy." And no, I am not going to tell you who I think is sexy, because that is a topic for another day...or not. Maybe.
Three, (and this is a big one), I need to add someone onto my list. Marsha and I discovered him during CBS's HORRENDOUS (I mean, it's really really really bad) pre-game show earlier this afternoon. Kyle Boller of the Ravens. He has to be the cutest thing ever. So adorable. Oh my gosh. I hate the Ravens, because I hate Ray Lewis (I am so my dad's daughter), but man, I may have to watch them in secret if Boller comes back to start. I don't know exactly where he fits on this list, because, well, he's an unproven QB, and I feel that you have to be at least mildly successful to be placed on the list (I know what you're going to say, and here's my response: Steve Walsh was successful for a year.) But if he does start and do well at some point, Boller's getting added. Maybe above Brunell. Yeah, he'd be #2. He's better than Brunell. Yeah, wow, he is. Wooooowwwww. Told Sara to keep an eye out, since she is my favourite Maryland-ite, and I think she would enjoy him very much.
Okay, really, I should do work before the Super Bowl starts. Darn ESPN, why can't they have a seven hour long pregame. I hate CBS's. I don't care about freaken Crank Yankers and "the Frankinstein of NFL Players." No. I want football. And please go easy on the sad features--I wept my eyes out at the Trent Dilfer piece on ESPN earlier. I can't handle stories like that at all.
Happy Super Bowl Sunday!
