ain't that the truth.

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college, the ten best years of my life.

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alas,

[dawn, dusk] has turned into [dusk, dawn)

woe betide me.

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ps:

sometimes¹ i feel like i'll be in school from:

[now, ∞).

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Anyway, enough rambling (I told you I'd be back in no time). I have good news and bad news.

Good news is I discovered Yonaise™ today while brainlessly staring at the back of a yogurt carton, bemoaning the plight of my Saturday evening. Yes, Yonaise™. It's basically all part yogurt : no part mayonnaise. A mayonnaise substitute, if you will. And it's fantastic. Just as I was about to fall asleep, face down, into my notes I noticed the trademarked idea on the back of the yogurt carton, and 45 minutes later I was feasting on a new and improved version of my old spinach artichoke and cheese dip.

Do it:

1 cup fat-free yogurt (instead of mayo)
1 cup grated Parmesan cheese
14 ounces of spinach
14 ounces artichoke hearts, drained and chopped
dash of garlic powder
2 tablespoons finely chopped green onion
1 to 2 tablespoons chopped ripe tomato

[fyi: 14 ounces translates into about a can]

Spread the mixture in a 9-inch pie plate (or any small casserole dish). Bake at 350° for about 25 minutes, or until lightly browned. Garnish with the green onion and chopped tomato. Serve with assorted crackers or tortilla chips. Or, your Multivariable Calculus notes.

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Bad news is I discovered Yonaise today and as a result, ended up losing more valuable time (while gaining a whole army of probiotic, active cultures). Hence the ill-fated [dusk, dawn) schedule aforementioned.

Speaking of which, I better go :/

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¹ all the time.

status update.

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Ladies and gentlemen, it is officially 7 o'clock in the evening and I have yet to do anything remotely constructive with my day. I woke up at 7:30 a.m. (on a Saturday, mind you) so that I could sit down from dawn till dusk and saturate my brain with the nightmare that lies within the confines of my textbook... and, well, it's 7:00 p.m. and I have yet to even open the thing. And here I am blogging, because I've somehow convinced myself that it's oh so important that I do this right now.

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It's funny how time flies when you're doing absolutely nothing.

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Shalom!

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I promise hope is not lost. I barely have enough time to make myself a turkey sandwich nowadays, nonetheless write an inspired post. Once summer school (and life, in general) releases it's merciless clutch on my free time, I'm sure I'll be back to rambling in no time.


In the meanwhile, I thought I'd share this with you:

The picture shows Ben Bernanke¹ reporting on our economy to the Senate Banking Committee in Washington a few days ago. Forget numbers, charts, and graphs. His facial expression alone pretty much wraps up the state of the economy in a nutshell. I, for one, am definitely not interested in taking over this man's job.

Keep up the great work Ben!

¹ Full Name: Ben Shalom Bernanke. Seriously. If I ever run into him, I can't wait to be like, "Shalom, Shalom."
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boom.

July 4th: To be honest, I'm not a fan. The whole ordeal is just a tremendous noise fest featuring drunk people playing with fire, while their children threaten my life with sparklers. I, for one, have always been in favor of starting new traditions on this national holiday. After all, the United States of America didn't get to where it is today by playing with TNT and eating hot dogs. Or did it?

..

Commentary aside, by the end of the night, the group dwindled down to a few of us laying out on the grass in my backyard, downing watermelon by the spoonful, watching the clouds of smoke dissipate into the atmosphere, and attempting to wrap our feeble minds around some of life's greatest mysteries: how Larry King inexplicably remains alive, why Tila has forsaken the universally recognized last name of "Nguyen" and opted for "Tequila", whether Yankee Doodle was a fashion icon or just really liked pasta (what kind of nonsense is sticking a feather in your cap and calling it macaroni?), and more.

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Anyway, it's 3 a.m. and I'm exhausted.

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Happy Birthday America. Please keep your pants on.

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what blows up, must come down.

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A few moments ago, I was surfing RateMyProfessor.com, attempting to gauge the levels of misery and desperation I'll be experiencing next semester, and I decided to browse my previous professors' ratings and comments.. you know, to see if the submitted opinions correspond with my own.

My curiosity automatically leads me to look up a friend of the family, who also happens to be my freshman Honors Calculus teacher, who also happens to be the most hopelessly difficult professor I have ever taken in my academic career, who also happens to be the biggest fob I have ever encountered in my lifetime (i.e. unabashedly pronouncing 'third' as 'terd' in front of a classroom filled with bewildered students, so on and so forth). As I'm reading the multitude of comments confirming my opinion, I stumble onto the following and the rest is lost in hysterical laughter:
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I can't ever even understand half of what he is ever saying. Whenever he says "goes up" he says "blows up." That confused me real bad all semester. I never understood why things would blow up the x-axis.

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On the bright side, he was pretty hot so I gave him a chili pepper.

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wow-e.

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this little guy stole my heart tonight.

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