Homehomehome.

Homehomehomehomehomehomehomehomehomehomehome. :]

I realize that, at this point, I'm blogging with a one-track mind (one-track blogging?), but I swear I can't help it. I'm so jealous of everybody that got to hang out over Thanksgiving! Hahaha. With the Facebook pictures and the statuses and the happy fun times! I am jealous. ;]

So anyway I come home in 15 days and at this point college has been reduced to me slogging through my finals so I can get on a plane. PLANE. ME. HOME. HOOOOOOME.

In which I take field trips, am a commuter, and like giving people presents.

So, I've taken to going on Monday "field trips." I am definitely enough of a nerd that this is fun. A couple of weeks ago I went to the White House. Just, you know, to check up on it! Make sure it was still there and everything. ;] I've also been to the Smithsonian and to the Capitol building (you can pretty much walk right up to the front of it, which I totally didn't remember; you know when to stop because there are little fences over the stairs and REALLY STERN LOOKING GUARDS). And once, the zoooooooo. :D

I really do love D.C., and always have, and now I get to wander around it like a tourist, except I live here. When I went to the White House I brought my class reading with me and found a park with a bench, and people asked me for directions. And I gave them. Because I live here. So that's pretty cool and everything, but all things considered?

I'm so ready to come home. SO READY.

This first semester has been a pretty monumental experience (ahahaha unintentional pun, monuments are in D.C., monumental, I'M SO FUNNY), and I'm sure I've changed a lot in ways I don't even realize-- although I do think a lot has stayed the same, as well. And when I'm home for Christmas break I'm going to miss a bunch of stuff (free museums, spontaneous trips to the White House, and the fabulous public transportation come to mind). But it's time to go home for a while, it just is. I miss everybody like crazy, and of course it doesn't help that I'll be on the East Coast for Thanksgiving-- even though my uncles are wonderful, stupendous, amazing people who invited me to stay with them over break, so I will be doing Thanksgiving with family, at least. :]

Anyway! The point is I want to see my family, and my friends, and, you know. My cat. ;] Sleep in my own bed, not have to go to work (did I mention I'm a commuter now? because I am! I feel like a little kid playing dress-up or something; I don't feel old enough to have a 9-5 job and a commute, even if it is part-time). I want to really catch up with everybody. Facebook is great for the basics, but I want to actually sit down and talk and find out what life has been like.

Also I really love giving people presents. What can I say. IT IS FUN.

In which there is elevator conversation.

"So this girl, does she go here?"

"Nah."

"Oh, okay. What's her name again?"

"Venice."

"That's a city. That can't be her name."

"Yeah, I know. That's what I told her."

"It used to be a city-state. Now it's a city."

"Yeah."

OH COLLEGE.

Though we adore men individually, we agree that as a group, they're rather stupid...

It is time to discuss the totally fantastic woman that is Winifred Banks.

And...yes. I'm choosing to talk about her as if she is a real person.

For those of you who don't recall the superb Mrs. Banks, she was the mom in Mary Poppins. You know, the one with blonde hair and an absent-minded streak? This lady:

Even though I know her character is basically used to poke fun at the women's suffrage movement (oh, look at the silly British housewife, isn't it nice that she has this "votes for women" thing as a hobby? how cute), I cannot help but completely adore her.

I mean, this is someone who when confronted with cannon fire which shakes her entire house, shouts, "Posts everyone!" and proceeds to hold back the piano as it attempts to roll across her floor. This is someone who takes everything in stride-- from her ridiculously grumpy husband, to the nanny who floats into the front garden and proceeds to be casually magic, to a house full of dancing chimney sweeps (towards the end of this clip? like, around 6:50-- yeah, if my house every suddenly fills with dancing chimney sweeps, I hope to deal with it half as well as our lovely Mrs. Banks does):

Basically, I find it delightful that she's so laid back about the impossible things that happen to her over the course of a two hour, forty minute film. I can't not love her. And if you can manage to hate her-- or even be apathetic towards her?-- I don't want to hear about it, because it will just make me SAD.

And, to top it all off, she firmly believes in her crusade for women's votes, even if the filmmakers kind of...didn't? Basically, she is a WONDROUS HUMAN BEING.

Even though she doesn't exist.

In which I choose my political party based on anagrams, Christopher Walken is just weird, and I try to prepare Puyallup for my awesome.

Just for the record:

o1. "Republicans" anagrams to "a sniper club." And "democrats" anagrams to "smart code."

I feel officially justified in my political affiliations.

o2.

Christopher Walken, who is simultaneously terrifying and hilarious. Christopher Walken, who is a riddle, wrapped in an enigma, shrouded in a mystery. Christopher Walken, who, bafflingly, busted out the song and dance in the 2007 version of Hairspray. Christopher Walken, who, in the above video, reads the lyrics to "Poker Face."

o3. I am coming home in 37 days. Hope you're ready for me, Puyallup.

Although, really. No one is every prepared for the sheer awesometasticness that is my presence.

And yeah, I just said "awesometasticness." In reference to myself.

How cool is that?

In which the Yankees just really need to lose.

"I believe in the Church of Baseball. I've tried all the major religions, and most of the minor ones. I've worshipped Buddha, Allah, Brahma, Vishnu, Siva, trees, mushrooms, and Isadora Duncan. I know things. For instance, there are 108 beads in a Catholic rosary and there are 108 stitches in a baseball. When I heard that, I gave Jesus a chance."

If anyone can offer me a religion with a god devoted specifically to ensuring Yankees' losses, I will convert right this very minute.

BOOOOOOO. :[

The quote, for the record, is from Bull Durham.