ADD: 1, Cleanliness: Nil

Let me preface this by saying that I a) had only the best of intentions, and b) am glad my parents don't read this.

I'm at my dad's house in Midtown because he's gone for the week. He and my stepmother asked me to do some cleaning up while I'm here in exchange for some money. It's not a bad deal.

Anyway, after I finished lunch today, I noticed that the dishwasher was quite full, so I decided to run it and then put away the dishes. I scrounged around for some dishwasher soap, but couldn't find any. Instead, I grabbed the tomato-scented dish soap from by the sink and loaded the dishwasher's soap dispenser, turned it on, and went upstairs to check my email and such.

A few minutes later, I noticed that the house smelled like tomatoes. I ran downstairs, and the kitchen was slowly filling with tomato-scented foam.

Lesson of the day: dish soap that goes by the sink does not go in the dishwasher.

I got most of the soapy water off of the floor with some towels, but there's still quite a bit left in the dishwasher. I'm letting the soap settle, and then I'm going to...well...I'm not sure. Try to mop it out? Use a ladle? Run the dishwasher again? I have no idea what to do.

What I do know is that I feel pretty ridiculous right now. Proof that years of schooling doesn't buy common sense.

I should go back on my ADD meds. For reals.

foam party!
Kerry

Floating in my Tin Can

Ever since a particularly terrible rendition of T Rex's "Bang A Gong" combined with "If You're Happy and You Know It", I've been really reluctant to sing in public. It's not that I'm a terrible singer, but I'm not a very good one, either. Singing in the Fightin' Focus is one thing, singing with an audience is another matter entirely. Somehow, I always manage to forget about that one time when it's P&H karaoke night.

Friday, after drinking weak vodka lemonade and getting caught up in a zombie walk at Trolley Tour, a bunch of us went to the P&H for some cheap beer and comedy gold. For possibly the first time ever, the host was having a hard time convincing people to sing, so Linsey and I got up to sing Tiny Dancer. We tried our damnedest - there were parts sung as William Shatner would have sung them, some commentary, and light pelvic thrusting. Colin sang (very appropriately) "She Blinded Me With Science". Other than that, it was the ususal mixed bag of dudes drunk on Maker's Mark singing "Total Eclipse of the Heart" and large team efforts singing "YMCA". All in all, a great time.

Kristin got to Memphis on Saturday, and that night, she and Andy got to join the the completion of one of my life goals. I finally got to see The Reverend Horton Heat. Until last Saturday, every time he played in Memphis, I was either underage or in Muncie. The one time he made it to Muncie, I was in Memphis for a job interview. But Saturday night, in a crowd of people with bad tattoos, I finally lived the dream.

Before the show started (which was at least two hours after doors opened), I started talking to some cool people that were standing near us. It turns out that they work at the ad agency that I tried to walk into a few weeks ago. When I told my sad tale of braving Cooper only to face a locked door, they laughed and told me I should have rang the doorbell. Anyway, all of us had a great time drinking and dancing and trying to figure out if the ginormous individual with shedding, over-dyed pink hair was a man or a woman.

Yesterday, Kristin and I spent the afternoon starring in a movie that Andy has to make for work. The movie is about the most wonderful of all Constitutional ammendments (the first one). Yesterday's shoot was about the freedom of the press. This involved Kristin opening a bathroom door only to be confronted with a reporter (me) and a photographer (Andy). You'll have to ask Andy if you want a better explanation.

Anyway, the shoot involved lots of things, including ridiculous drawn-on facial hair.






I've got to go back on Wednesday for more filming (I also get to represent your right to assembly).

In the meantime, I should probably head over to the little Memorial Day extravaganza that's happening this afternoon. I'm not even going to job search - it's a freakin' holiday.

lick the pen,
Kerry

There's A Kind of Hush

This may be totally wrong of me, but I find couples who fight in public to be quite intriguing. There's a couple in the coffee shop who have been fighting loudly on and off for the last half hour. It's a little weird. Did they have a conversation before they left their house that went something like this:

Dude: I'm so mad at you!
Chick: I want some coffee!
Both: Let's go fight at Otherlands!

Also ammusing was the church sign I saw on my way to have lunch with my mom. It was at a church that's notorious for sermon comedy gold. On Psalm Sunday, the sermon was titled "Jesus Said 'Bring Me That Ass'. Anyway, this week, the sign says "Sunday's Message: Gangbanging with the Lepers." I'm not even sure what that means. I have to believe that Jesus wouldn't want us to gangbang anyone. Are there even lepers in Memphis? Does the person who wrote that sign even know what gang banging is?

Anyway. Moving on.



I went downtown today to apply for some part time work so that I'll have both an income and something to do with myself. I applied at a clothing store, a coffee shop, and a restaurant. If I hear nothing by next Friday, I'm going to call them. I've worked in retail (I sold band instruments for a while in high school), but I've never been any sort of barista or waitress. With my ADD, I'm not so sure it's advisable. Anyway, I want to give it a shot, if for no other reason that it'll be entertaining for you to read about.

I also authored a brutally honest cover letter and sent it along with my resume to the West Memphis Evening Times. Hopefully, I'll hear back. If I can find a story in West Memphis, I can find one anywhere. I'd really enjoy the position, and I hope they email me back.

In other news, tonight is Trolley Tour night. Trolley Tour is pretty fun - riding the trolley is free, and all of the art galleries and shops in the South Main Arts district stay open late. They also serve free booze. Yay for free booze. It's a nice way to get some culture for very little cash, and I'm all about that. Plus, the people watching can't be beat. Tonight is also Karaoke night at the P&H. (Dude, it sounds like I live at the P&H - I swear I'm only there 1-3 nights a week. That's not so bad!)

Kristin is coming to Memphis this weekend because she can. I'm not sure what we're going to do, but I'll chronicle the whole thing in meticulous detail right here. In the meantime, I'm going to get off here and get this weekend started. But before I go - some upcoming features: My Weekend With Kristin! The Job Search Continues! Funny Vintage Photos of My Family!

Check back often.

Have a great holiday weekend!

interrobangin',
Kerry

The Long Awaited Photographic Evidence of The Beer Hunting

So, there we are, in the woods. Kristin took all of those photos, and there are more of the actual hunting on my camera, which is, well, elsewhere.

In other news, I had an interview at a nursing home today. The job was a marketing assistant position that was currently being occupied by an elderly woman named Maudie. I wasn't too interested in the position, but they overly tan woman who interviewed me is going to pass my resume on to the PR department.

This nursing home was like...woah. It was nothing like any other nursing home I've ever been to. The lobby was huge, with a ginormous glittering chandelier and crazy floral patterns on every available surface. There are apartments, and townhomes, and a nursing home. Apparently, it's where the Memphis elite go to retire. It was pretty impressive.

Despite hearing back from the PR position that I had originally wanted and finding out that they couldn't hire me, I'm feeling a little better about my job search. There's a chance I can still get in at this agency but in a slightly different capacity. I don't really want to say too much. So, let's talk about other things instead.

We played P&H trivia last night, and we tied for fourth. It was a little strange, though, because right before the game started, several kids that I marched with in high school showed up. They were all freshmen and sophomores when I was a senior, which means that they were entirely too young to be in a bar. And it's always strange to run into people that you went to high school with, but its even stranger when they show up in midtown, looking older than you.

Anyway - my mom and Kevin and I are going to have a fun family dinner. I'll be back tomorrow.

eat your weevils,
Kerry

Chupacapras are Nocturnal, Guys!

It's hard to belive that I slept almost 12 hours last night and am still pretty tired. It's also difficult to understand why I'm still so sore. Colin, Andy and I made our sluggish return from the Easter Beer Hunt yesterday, and I'm still in recovery mode.

We arrived Friday night after almost nine hours in my car (a trip which included a ride through Elnora, Ind., Stankiest Place on Earth). Matt, Kristin and Kyle were already there, and had passed the hour between their arrival and ours with drinking and some mild campfire building. While Colin, Matt and Kyle pitched our seven-person tent in the dark, Kristin and I drank green tea Smirnoff (who knew there was such a thing!) and caught up over the making of dinner.

The first night was pretty typical camping - there was booze and food and scary stories (i.e. the last entry here) told around the campfire. Around 2 a.m., we stumbled into our tent for some rest. I know that camping isn't supposed to be super comfortable, and that was alright - we all made peace with the uneven ground and the cold. We did not, however, make peace with the child who ran around the campsite switching between maniacal laughter and cooing like a retarded turtle dove.

The next morning was a little rough, given the lack of sleep and the hangovers, but we woke up and cooked a slightly different version of the meal we had made the night before. Matt got out his guitar, and he and I sang a rousing rendition of Belle and Sebastian's "Meat and Potatoes" to complement breakfast. Kristin and Kyle left shortly after that because Kristin (lamely, I might add) had to make jelly with soccer moms for her internship. She didn't respond to my guilt trip (I'll admit, it wasn't my best, as it was delivered pre-coffee), and I was a little bummed, because though she left me a few bottles of Green Tea Smirnoff, she missed the best part of the weekend - the Easter Beer Hunt.

Matt's parents and some of their friends from college have been conducting this fantastic activity for the last 31 years. This is an awesome tradition that starts out with a keg, because it's important that one be slightly drunk before hunting. The actual hunt only lasts a few minutes. It starts with some announcements read by a man named Roger who was wearing a referee shirt, then a whistle is blown, and about 20 drunk adults and several sober, underage "apprentices" go racing down a hill. The running stops after about the first two minutes and turns to slow ambling. However, I will say that Matt had a sweet power dive for a bottle of Little King that resulted in him tumbling over onto a second Little King.

After the hunting, there was an awards ceremony complete with bizarre prizes (president masks, beer shaped sunglasses). Colin, Andy and I won the award for the hunters who had travelled the greatest distance, and Matt won "Bringer of the Most Rookies." Prizes for these two great achievements included light up fake teeth, a rubber Blues Brother mask, and a small can of roadkill possum.

Following the hunt and subsequent drinking, we decided to relocate our campsite to the backyard of the cabin that Matt's parents had rented. There was plenty of room, and it was free. We didn't want to disassemble the tent, so the four of us picked it up and walked it about a mile uphill to the cabin. I wish I had pictures of it, because it was pretty ridiculous. Cars kept coming and the drivers would stare at us like they'd never seen four people carrying a tent that I could have parked my car in before.

Once at the cabin, there was pizza and (surprise!) more drinking.

We woke up the next morning hung over and sore from once again thinking that our campsite was much flatter than it really was. Andy looked like Morrissey, and my hair sort of had a charming Thomas Jefferson thing going on. We finally left around 11 a.m., and made the long drive back to Memphis.

The weekend as a whole was fantastic, and there are tons of details that I'm leaving out because they would just be too difficult to explain. It was an awesome time, though, and I'm already looking forward to next year.

Maybe the turtle dove kid's family will have learned their lesson about taking their child camping.

that's what she said,
Kerry

PS - Blogger is having difficulties uploading pictures today, so I'll try again later .

Graceland, Too: Like French Mustard

Last night, Colin and I took Andy, Caroline, her British Boyfriend Liam, Jeremy and Flanagan to that mecca of Mississippi weirdness, Graceland, Too. I've written about Graceland, Too before (there's an entry on No Formal Training). For those just joinging the fun, Graceland, Too is a private home in Holly Springs, Miss. that has been turned into a 24 hour a day, 7 days a week shrine to Elvis Presley. The man that owns it, Paul McLeod, has dedicated his life to his collection. The first time I went, I thought Paul was a little, well, nuts, but with more visits, I've grown more used to him.

But last night...last night was just weird.

We got to Holly Springs right around midnight and stopped off at the one open gas station for a pee break and so that Jeremy and Liam could purchase some pork rinds. We had tried to explain Graceland, Too to our first-time visitors, but it's one of those things that you just kind of have to see to believe.



After seven or eight visits, you sort of know how the tour is going to go. Paul is going to talk a lot about money and numbers. He may throw in a few morbid details. He'll speak really quickly, and the dentures, they will flap. If there's a girl in the group that he's never seen before, he may make some gentile passes at her and sing Elvis songs while doing some light gyrations.

But last night, we veered from the usual format.

I'm not sure what tipped us off that the tour woulnd't be business as usual. It could have been when Paul brought out the binder full of laminated photos of himself with lots of automatic weapons pretty early in the tour. Usually, the special experience of seeing this binder is reserved for rowdy Ole Miss kids who can't keep their mouths shut. The tour as a whole was a little more morbid than usual, and we shuffled through the house, smiling nervously and accomodating Paul when he decided to burst into song in a lame attempt to seduce Caroline and I. We were a little relieved to get to the living room where the photos are taken, if for no other reason than that it gave us a little break from the tour.



After the photos were taken, we were all standing around in the living room, and Paul started saying that in his tenure as the world's biggest Elvis fan, he's seen some pretty crazy things go down. We aked him to tell us more, but he claimed that he couldn't, what with all of the pretty ladies in the room. We laughed and told him to tell us anyway, and he got a little quiet. "Ok," he said, "I'll tell you, but the pretty ladies need to go on into the next room."

Caroline and I went into the next room, trying to stifle our giggles and overhear what was going on the other room. We couldn't make it out, so we chatted, sure Paul had sent us out of the room unnecessarily.

But when the guys came into the room, something had changed. They went from looking like this:




To looking like this:




(In case you can't tell, the first one is attentive and mildly freaked out. The second is close to all out horror.)

Caroline and I weren't quite sure what was going on, and I couldn't find a good time to ask one of the guys. We endured the rest of the tour silently, trying not to make eye contact with eachother. As the tour was winding down, Paul became more blatant in his efforts to get Caroline to stay in Holly Springs and "give him 100 babies, all named Elvis Aaron Presley".

At the end of the tour, we stood in the crowded foyer while Flanagan wrote a comment in Paul's guest book on behalf of all of us. Then Jeremy farted. Loudly. And it was just the break in the silence that we all needed. We said our goodbyes and rushed out of the house and decided to meet at the gas station where the whole trip had started for a debriefing. I still wanted to know exactly what had happened when Caroline and I had been banished from the room.

We crammed into a booth in the diner part of the gas station, drinking overly hot cups of coffee and eating Krispy Kreme. The boys elected Jeremy to be their speaker.

(and just as a warning, this part is going to be a little, um, Adult. Like, NC-17. I'm just telling the story as it happened. So, if you're uncomfortable with that sort of thing, quit reading. Mom, you may want to stop here for a second and pick back up in a few paragraphs.)

Ok...this is thouroghly creepy, so I'm going to type it as succinctly as possible.

Apparenly, there was a prostitute from Texas who made her way to Graceland, Too and decided to stay for a few days, and Paul had to call Jerry "The King" Lawler to get rid of her. Since Paul is a man with very flappy dentures, the boys missed a lot of the story and were only able to catch bits and pieces. The telling of the story ended with the phrase "...like French mustard." Then came the visual part of the story, where the boys were shown, um...well...evidence along the same lines as Monica Lewinsky's infamous blue dress, carefully hidden from the pretty ladies by a fleece blanket with a picture of Elvis on it.

*shudder*

(Ok...Adult portion over. Resume reading with your innocence intact.)

The ride back to Memphis was largely silent, punctuated by outbursts of giggles from everyone in the car which turned into group expression of the sheer grossness of the evening. For a little while, I was worried that Andy wouldn't ever speak to me again.

Even this morning, I'm still not sure if I can declare last night a good time or not. I slept until 11 a.m., like you do when you're unemployed.

I won't be updating again until Monday, though, because Colin, Andy and I are headed out of town this weekend to go to Easter Beer Hunt with Matt Trisler. I'm pretty excited about it, and I should be working on getting ready to leave tomorrow instead of writing the world's longest, creepiest blog entry.

I'm, ah, going to get on that now.

santa covered midget coffins,
Kerry

Just As Exciting As I Sound

So, the big plan that I devised yesterday didn't really work out. Well - parts of it did - I got in my car, I got a resume, and I bravely crossed the street. Upon approaching the door, there was an obstacle I hadn't really thought of. The door was locked.

I shouldn't have been surprised. This is midtown Memphis, and lots of offices keep their doors locked. (When I worked downtown last summer, we didn't keep the door locked, and sometimes, angry homeless women would come in and yell at us for no real reason. That creates an environment not really conducive to working.) I stood there for a minute, feeling a little dejected. They probably also keep their doors locked to keep out overzealous, unemployed recent graduates. We can be dangerous, you know. I decided against just slipping an unsolicited resume into their mail slot and slinked back across the street to my car.

I'm feeling alright today, though. I've applied for a few more positions, and I'm really trying not to worry about it. My Big Memphis Freakout can't get the best of me, or I'm going to miss out on all of the fun things to do around here.

Last night, in desperate need of some fun, Colin and I went to the P&H for open mic stand up comedy night. Yes, it is just as risky as it sounds. Three or four of the comics were really good. Unfortunately, they were strategically placed at the very beginning and the very end, forcing the rest of us to sit through an hour of porn jokes in the middle. All in all, it wasn't too bad, and Brandon, the host, is really great.

Tonight will be a little different. I'm about to out myself as a super girlnerd here, but damn, if I don't love some Gilmore Girls. Anyway, tonight is the series finale, and I (like most people with ovaries and some of our significant others) are really pushing for a Lorelai / Luke reunion. So, while Colin and my other friends get hammered and answer questions at the P&H Trivia Night, my friend Linsey and I will be on her couch, munching on junk food and making "awww" noises. It's going to be awesome!

For now, though, I've got to go rotate my laundry. The ratio of clean underwear to dirty underwear was a little disproportionate.

cleanliness is admired,
Kerry

News Hair in the Face of Traffic Adversity

I'm sitting up at Otherlands, the coffee shop that has become like a makeshift, caffinated office to me since my move. Outside, an intrepid young, blonde broadcast reporter is doing her thing while her camera dude films her from across the busy street. Traffic is wizzing by between them, and I'm not sure how exactly it's working, or what the story is.

On the opposite corner, there's an advertising agency. When I finish this blog and my overly sour lemonade, I'm going to go grab one of the resumes in my car and walk into that ad agency, and well...I guess just leave it? I'm not even sure what I'm going to do. But I'm "professionally dressed", as I went out to the suburbs today to apply for another job. I may as well - what have I got to lose, other than my life trying to cross the street?

The weekend was relatively unevenful. I DJ-ed a house party on Saturday, and I played a flawless set. Too bad no one could hear it. You see, Memphis has a unique problem in that all of its citizens under a certain age seem to think that they should be musicians. When they've been drinking, these people think they're actually good musicians, and proceed to pick up any instrument lying around and bang / strum / make noise with it repetitively. And that's what happened Saturday. Since the house party was at the home of some legitimate musicians, instruments were about (as were drunk people). Thus, my perfectly executed set was played enthusiastically, but heard by very few. The people who did hear it liked it, and I'm hoping that I'll get to do it again soon.




But for now, I'm going to go out to my car, grab a resume, and walk into that ad agency like they'll actually want to hire me. I'll let you know how that goes.

they can't take away my dignity,
Kerry

There's A Real Difference of Opinion Here

Wow, I'm out of shape. I rode my bike up to a coffee shop this morning , and though I was fine on the way there, I was really out of breath on the way back. It was only four blocks! I guess I'll get more used to it - with gas prices what they are, I'm trying to drive as little as possible.

I'm also trying not to drive as much because, well, I'm trying to keep what little money I have. Though my interview went well, it's likely going to be a few weeks before I hear anything back from them. If they want me, I'm going to take the job. I think I'll be an excellent fit there, and though I won't be paid very well my first year, I'll still be able to get by. Besides - I'm young. I've got very little responsibility, other than to myself, and I'm not ready to sacrifice having a job that I enjoy for a larger paycheck.

The other night, I had dreams about being a waitress at The Arcade, which is a diner downtown. It wasn't so bad (at least in the dream). That may be an option.

Sorry if I'm being a little crappy about this. I'm just nervous about hearing back from this interview, and I want to have a back up plan in case it doesn't work out. Because really, with my ADD, I don't think I'd be a very good waitress.

In non Big Memphis Freakout news, I got asked to DJ a house party tonight. It's going to be a lot of people that I don't know who are also much cooler than me. I've got my playlists together, and it should be a pretty great time. It won't be the same without the Black Glasses Brigade, but nothing is.

Have a great weekend, everyone. Stay tuned Monday for another exciting intsallment of Formally Trained. Will our heroine be able to bring herself to cross the busiest street in Midtown on her bike? Will the job interview people ever call her back? Will the hipsters like it if she plays "Apache" tonight?

These stories and more - Monday!

I know a girl who's a natural dancer,
Kerry

Writers are Lazy

First of all - Congratulations to my lovely boyfriend, Colin, on the reciving of a very large, very important grant for next school year. Yay!

I had my second interview this morning and I think it went really well. They had me mock cold call someone as well as answer the question "What does the inverted pyramid mean to you?" I wasn't sure if they were asking for its definition or its impact on my being, so I answered both. I was also asked to write a lead, which I kicked ass at. The bad news is that it may be a while before I hear back from them. In the mean time, I'm booking my Christian singer, and hoping for other interviews.

Thanks for the good vibes, everyone.

Anyway - just a short little update to let y'all know how the interview went. Today, I'm going to be getting somewhat settled and getting a few things out of boxes so that it doesn't look like an indie rock hobo has settled in said boyfriend's kitchen. Pretty much, I'm putting my records on shelves. I've also applied for a few more jobs. Alas, employment, why must you be so difficult to come by?

Have a great day, everyone!

rocked that bitch,
Kerry

The Girl Who Moved

Greetings from sunny, blue-skied, humid-as-hell Memphis!

I survived my move, and my belongings are now scattered through the city I grew up in. Some are at my dad's, more are at my mom's, and the one box labeled "Open Now" is with me at Colin's. Though, I realised that maybe I made an error in packing judgement with the Open Now box. Sure, there are some things in there (shoes, hair straightener, ect.), but there are also lots of things in that box that I don't need immediate access to. It's ok, though. I think I've got everything I'll need for a while.

Last night, after our long, long drive back to Memphis and about an hour of fun unloading the car at my mom's house, Colin and I got home. We got to the door, and it was unlocked, which, in Midtown, is not really the best sign. Colin said something about the guy who was housesitting for him maybe being there, but we walked in, and there was no one in the kitchen. There was, however, a table full of food. I was quite confused, until all of my Memphis friends jumped out of the living room and yelled "congratulations". And I really had no idea that any of this was being planned, so it was quite the happy surprise.

But now I'm here, and I'm here for good. It feels a little surreal. I have my second interview at an advertising agency tomorrow, and I'm not really nervous about it. I just keep trying to tell myself that I'm going to get a job, I'm going to get a job. Colin got up early this morning and took my suit to the cleaners, so at least I'll look pretty. If you've got any good vibes to spare, please send them to me tomorrow morning. I could really use some employment.

Even though the first interview went swimmingly, and they seemed quite excited to talk to me again, I'm still a little nervous that something has changed over the last month, and that they won't want me tomorrow. Let's hope that's not the case.

I'll post an update tomorrow. For the time being, I'm going to buy groceries, and then enjoy the new rear wheel basket that Colin installed on my bike this morning.

Oh, by the way - if you see Andybond, he's moving to Memphis to work at http://www.livefrommemphis.com this summer. Wish him well.

crash and burn,
Kerry

When A Woman That You Love Is Gone, She's Bombing East Japan

Now that all of the food is eaten, and pretty much everything is in boxes, I'm sitting on the floor of my room, my computer in my lap. I hate this part in between getting everything ready to go and actually going. I haven't said goodbye to the Black Glasses Brigade yet, and I wish I was in a better mood right now, but I'm feeling rather petulant and sad. I suppose that's the way it happens.

Anyway. The Let's Eat It party was a huge sucess. My friend Kristin described it as "overwhelming". Someone else described it as "drunk". Actually, I think a lot of us described it as drunk. I made pasta, and stir fry, and veggies, and rotel, and chicken. There was also a ton of chips and salsa. I boiled the bloodied ear of corn that Andy left, and when it was done, gleefully chomped on it.



It tasted like victory.

Anyway, we watched The Lost Skeleton of Cadavra, which is an intentionally terrible 50's style sci-fi movie that is accompanied by an awesome drinking game, which we played. Seven of us drank about 30 beers, and after the movie was over, we slowly cleaned the kitchen and then spent about an hour laying on the floor, holding our stomachs and smiling. Here are some pictures of us, while we were still upright:





Anyway - I'd better get back to making those mix cds and putting the last of things in boxes. Next time I update, I'll be in Memphis, and hopefully in a better mood, and writing more like I'm thinking.

Have a great Monday!

we've got a lot, don't ever forget that,
Kerry

Fire It Up

First, and most importantly, I graduated from Ball State yesterday with my BS in Public Relations. Go Me!



After the ceremony, my family took me out for a super fancy graduation dinner at Steak'n'Shake. Actually, it was pretty awesome. Now that all is said and done, I don't really feel any different. Graduation is like any of those life experiences that are supposed to be feel big and completely altering. After I walked across that stage, I felt almost exactly the same as I had the day before. It hasn't hit me yet, and I don't think it will until I get settled into wherever it is I'll be working and living in Memphis.

Speaking of the move to Memphis, I'm almost completely packed. My desk left yesterday with my dad, so I'm sitting on the floor with my computer propped up on a rubbermade tub full of coat hangers and other miscellany. Tonight, I'm having people over for a Let's Eat It party. It's pretty much exactly what it sounds like - we're going to eat all of the wayward food that I don't want to bother getting home. Everything must go - the half boxes of pasta, the apples, the donut holes, the half block of velveeta. We'll be washing it all down with beer and whiskey, because of that pesky open container law.

I'm also going to be cooking a very special ear of corn. It's a well known fact among my friends that I'm terrified of corn. Not like, corn in the grocery store, but corn in the wild. Cornfields are where scary things, like murders and alien abductions happen. Despite the fact that I've lived in Indiana for four years, I've never really gotten over that. Today, while I was busy trying to get salsa stains out of my carpet, Colin came into my room with a big white box with a tag bearing my name on it. A little confused, I opened the box to find this:



Colin and I sat there, mystified, our fingers covered in still-wet red ink, trying to figure out exactly where this awesome thing came from. Some phone calls later, we found out it was from my wonderful artist friend Andy, who dropped it at my back door unibomber style. It was apparently comedy gold, and I'm sorry I missed it.

Anyway, I feel like we need to engage in the ritual sacrifice of this ink-stained ear of Indiana. There will be photos tomorrow, of course.

I'd better get to showering, though. I've got to figure out exactly what to make out of all of this food.

we've got everything,
Kerry

I Know That I Can't Stay

Holy crap, y'all, I'm done with college.

About twenty minutes ago, I finished my last exam. Now I'm sitting in the computer lab in the building that I've worked in for the last four years, killing time until my last shift at my campus job. This afternoon, my family will get here, and Colin and I will go to Indianapolis to meet them (and go record shopping). Tomorrow, I'll put on my silly sombrero cap and graduate.

It's scary, and exciting, and about damn time, and too soon for me to go.


Anyway, I just wanted to say a quick hello. This blog is meant to be a continuation of my blog No Formal Training at Ball Bearings Online (only the most awesome student publication in the history of the world). The sort of frown on me continuing to work there after I've graduated. So, here I am. Check back often - I'm going to be updating most every day. If checking back is too much trouble, click on the RSS button, and get updates sent straight to your email account.

Gotta go to work, gotta have a job,
Kerry