Posts published during May, 2003

In order to make a fresh start, one must often discard the old and look to the new. And like Christinia Aguilera trading in her Disney good looks for Xtina’s skanky, peirced grunge, I have decided to change things up as well – I’m reformatting my harddrive today.

While looking through the hundreds of files on my computer, I came across a few gems that I thought I’d share here today. The following excerpts came from papers that I actually composed and submitted at some point during my distinguished years as an undergrad at Virginia Tech. And now, without further ado, and for your viewing pleasure, I present the college collection:

“Viagra makes the impotent man a magician as he *poof * pulls a bottle of wine from his hat, then * shazam* pulls a piece of wood out of his trousers.” April 2001 on gender and technology:

“Some women fear that video games will cheapen the way that men treat them. I happen to think that if a man can’t comprehend the difference between reality and a game, than humanity has bigger problems on its hands than Panty Raider.” April 2001 on gender and technology.

“I have learned that basically, it comes down to marketing. The fragrance producers tell us that women should smell like raspberries, so ladies immerse themselves in berry gels and lotions. In fact, if producers told us that women were meant to smell like cow manure, you can bet every Suzie Q. in America would shop Wal-Mart for poo pomades and bovine body creams. I am frightened by the idea that my lilac body spritzer is only feminine because corporations say so. I just thank God that marketers chose fruits and flower scents for women, as opposed to smells like sweat socks or pepperoni pizza.” April 2001 on gender and fragrance.

“I guess my being ‘unique’ or ‘weird’ is pretty interchangeable. If someone likes me, I am ‘unique’, if someone doesn’t I am ‘weird.’” January 2001 on being me.

“Because I walk the same way I did when I was small, with heavy, shifting steps, people know when I am walking down the hall as my hairy, mint slippers scratch at the tiles.” January 2001 on being me.

“I spent New Years Eve 1999 huddled on my couch watching Dick Clark count down the final seconds, of what I thought were the last minutes of civilization. However, the world didn’t end at midnight, and the only Y2K malfunction occurred on a slot machine in Delaware. To be, or not to be disappointed. That was the question.” February 2001 on Millenium madness.

“In the spirit of sports vernacular, I would like to propose a new word to express sports enthusiasm in America. Let it be said, America’s athletic obsession is simply, sportacular.” February 2001 on the Super Bowl spectacle.

“I feel a little skeptical of Palmer’s critique of Forte’s Trilobite! Most of Palmer’s review discusses the scientific importance of the trilobite in an enthusiastic manner. I feel that Palmer has a distinct love for trilobites that bias her report, as she describes fossils as an ‘unending source of pleasure.’” February 2001 on a book review:

“The proximity between the men leads me to believe that perhaps they are in a relationship with each other, or at least that there is some romantic tension between them. I imagine the latter, that perhaps they are straight boys who enjoy football and beer, and are having a hard time denying the curiosity. Maybe there is inquisitiveness in the two boys that can only be cured by a good sexual romp behind bedroom doors. I imagine the two want each other that way.” February 2002 on PDA.

“I love Enola, my best friend, and a domestic wonder, who makes the most fabulous chocolate chip cookies ever, so gooey, so rich, and thoroughly decadent. Enola is giving me wrinkles, the kind you get around your mouth – from making me smile all the time.” March 2002 on my best friend.

“I love Mom. Above all else I love Mom. She calls me ‘precious girl’ or ‘pumpkin’ or ‘cupcake.’ She lets me follow my dreams, even when they take me far from her, to places like Japan and Virginia.” March 2002 on Mom.

“And I love Blake, my boyfriend, my angelface, my confidante, and my future husband?” (*Who could predict that when these words were written in March 2002 that we would be engaged by December?)

“The possibility that a killer half breed whale and walrus can rise from the frothy depths of the ocean to inflict bloody murder on mankind is what makes this type of story so frightening and so effective.”April 2002, on the Whalerus, a CG Dad original concoction designed to scare the pants off us kids and give us an appreciation for nature.

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To Recap

Live from room 254, it’s the latest installment of hännihouse! I’ve been out of blogging for a while. You see, i’ve had to take a break from blogging. I’ve had to focus on the things that really count… the things that make the world so wonderful. The things that I’m talking about consist primarily of sleep, movies and new strappy shoes!

To catch you up I will have to do a quick post-graduation playback. In short, in the past three weeks I have:

-driven to the airport on three seperate occasions
-competed for roadspace with beach week bikers at Myrtle Beach
-splashed my toes in Charleston waters
-cried at the Dawsons Creek series finale from a couch in Wilmington (filming locale of Dawsons Creek, not coincidently)
-eaten burger king (aka “diarreah king”), IHOP, KFC, Mcdonalds and Taco Bell in less than one week’s span
-taken 162 digital photos
-lost my glasses 3 times
-drove brand-new ruby 1600 miles
-got lost in ruby about 17 times between here and a 60 mile radius
-got the worlds most annoying kanker sore
-got new flip flops and underpants
-got to hug maaa and cg and sk who all came to visit
-got milk
-got tired
-got to stop this incestant list making

I miss having the old ‘rents around. I told maaa it was pretty exciting being able to walk into taco bell and order what ever I want, regardless of price. Ooh $3.49 border bowl you tasted mighty sweet, but now that maaa’s not payin’ it’s back to the very filling $1.69 seven-layer burrito. Arrrriba!

And in the latest news, I start my job back with conferences again next Tuesday. I’m looking forward to another summer of golf-cart hijinx and conference guest crazies… More to come.

I did it. I am writing at this momentous time in my life to inform you, dear readers, that I am a new college graduate! As of fifteen minutes ago I just completed my last ever undergraduate exam, and come Saturday it’s goodbye Hänni Horn, fabulous college co-ed, hello Hänni Horn, fabulous woman of the world!

I’ve been feeling good these last few weeks. It’s been euphoric, to say the least. The scenery seems more vibrant, my friends more beloved, my frozen mocha’s more sweet and delicious.

I wondered if there was a way for me to keep that emotion – to hold it tight and never let it go, so as to wander in the mists of utopian bliss for the rest of my days. I considered writing the feeling down on paper, but I just couldn’t effectively express it.

And then today on this most exciting of days, I am feeling another emotion. Walking out of my last final I felt light, small… walking out of Squires, I wasn’t even sure my feet were touching the ground. And as I came to that realization, i thought how cheesy it was. This whole “lighter than air” “walking on cloud nine” thing is so cliche’. But I’m here to tell you folks, no foolin’, it really did happen to me. My feet transcended gravity today – I don’t think my nikes ever touched the pavement.

And all the molecules in my body feel different too. It feels like my cells have folded in to themselves – the whole of me is sucked toward the middle of my frame. My fingers, toes, forehead, they are all seemingly seperate from the core of my body. I feel like I’m feel like i’m going to faint. I feel like I’m going to fall into a deep slumber.

I feel as if at any moment, I may burst into spontaneous fits of smiling.

First final was completed this morning, and I think it went fairly well, except that I almost didn’t get to take it. Why you may ask? Well, I didn’t read the final notification email that explicitly stated the exam would take place across campus in the Comm building, and not in our regular classroom.

So I ended up being on time for a test that was happening on the other side of campus. Therefore, I guess I really wasn’t on time at all, as I had to do some major hauling to make it to the proper exam locale in any decent amount of time.

Yep, showing up to that empty room this morning made me feel like there was a party in my class and nobody was invited.

And on a relatedly weird note, I had a jump in attendance at my engagement site of about 302 more hits/day than I would normally get. In four months I was barely pushing 300 hits, and then between 5/1/03 and 5/2/03 my counter was saying 800 people had visited.

I noticed my “where should we get hitched” poll had some funny entries as well. The most recent suggestions included, but are not limited to “I have crabs,” “in my pants – azian invasion!”, “Iraq,” “I’d hit it,” “in the champagne room at the crazy horse,” and of course, “don’t do it. she only loves you for your money.”

Following a a link that a kindly guest left in my guestbook, I found the source of the mayhem.

My friend, big toany toan posted my poll link on this geek forum, asking people to vote for va/wva, cause he doesn’t want to fly to the wedding.

The geeks, thinking the “Alaska” option was a joke, went crazy in their attempts to nominate, and actually wrote a script that automatically voted for AK. Now there are 21,000 hits for my frozen homeland, and my page is a “hot topic” at the nerd forum.

I find this to be hilarious – that hordes of computer nerds are so interested in the nuptual activities of little ole me. Just goes to show, the world is one crazy, mixed up place.

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Panic Attack

Just yesterday I was boasting about how relaxed I was about this whole finals/graduation thing. I was very careful to elaborate on every aspect of relaxation, noting in particular that I wasn’t having any sleeping problems or nervous twitches under the left eye. I left out the part about me, in an effort to retain tranquility, trying to make up my own yoga routine that morning, resulting in some weird tension in my torso area.

Well, torso tension is gone, but I def. had the phantom life-change sleep thing going last night. I had this *awful* dream that I missed graduation, because I couldn’t put on my cap and gown.

In my dream I made it to the ceramony, but wasn’t wearing the cap and gown. I got sent “home,” to this dingy city flat. Of course I couldn’t find my bedroom once I got there. Then I couldn’t find my dresser in my bedroom. Then I found a gown. But it wasn’t *the* gown – it was a frumpy, corduroy, baby doll – style, emerald green frock.

Then I couldn’t get the green frock off.

Then I got it off and found my real gown. Then I couldn’t find my cap.

Then my sister gave me a cap she made. It was a cross between a beanie, a shriner fez, and a Christmas tree topper.

By the time i got all this cavorting done, people were piling out of the colliseum. Damn it, I missed grad.

Consequently, when I woke up I felt very tense and anxious – the exact feelings that just yesterday, I bragged to be free of.

So this dream has got me all out of wack, and I drink some green tea and eat some oatmeal. I relax, because in real life I know that my cap and gown is sitting safely in my closet, and I begin to day dream about graduation day and getting that nice diploma.

Then it hits me. I bet my diploma will be misspelled.

According to my birth certificate, my name is H䮮i Horn (note the beautiful umlaut over the “a”). However, the school sends my mail to “Hanni.” This is a major pet peeve. So I’ve got some funny dots on my name, why can’t the modern world just embrace it? It’s not *that weird.* It’s not like I’m requesting that my name be written in Swahilli. The umlaut is an internationally recognized Western Symbol people!

Regardless, I just *know* that my diploma will be awarded to “Hanni,” and this makes me very sad, as graduating college is the biggest accomplishment of my life thus far, save being born.

However, with a whole 6 days until grad, I don’t think there’s anyway I can check to rectify this situation. And as I write this, I realize I have a final tomorrow and haven’t started studying. Should I fail the final, perhaps I won’t graduate, making this whole hanni/hänni controversy null and void. That being said, must hit the books. Til next, adieu.

Well kids, it’s officially over. My days as a college student are numbered as all that stands between me and my degree are two final exams. And I think about the multiples of final exams that I have endured throughout my years in academia, and know that these two are not gonna bend me over – they are mere formalities in the grand scheme to graduate.

And like the return of McRib, this, my friend, is cause to celebrate. Being as I am never one to go against the conventions of celebratory socializing, it is not unusual that I found myself in the company of friends last night. It is not unusual that I found myself in the company of friends and French Hookers last night, albeit French Hookers of the beverage persuasion.

As most of the posse are graduating in 1.2 weeks, I felt it was important, nay crucial, that a final hurrah be held in our collective honor. And so, as we had done so many times in our lives together, we headed to homebase at Sharkeys. While the boys cupped their hands around huge mugs the size of small pitchers, I was careful to pick the cherrys from my amaretto sour, popping each delicious marachino into my eager mouth.

And we talked about the things that really matter: friendship, freshmen, work, school, girls. In fact, the topic of girls was so intriguing to a few in our party that an attempt was made to move away from the discussion of girls to the photographing of girls, or shall I say parts of girls. At one point, we had the pleasure of meeting a nice gentlemen (sarcastic) who inquired into the happenings of our table. Apparently he didn’t appreciate Toan’s notice of his girlfriend’s voluptous figure. Apparently, photographing the girl’s boobs was frowned upon in the establishment.

And so, to avoid a late night brawl, it made sense to change locales. Our next stop: Waterstreet Gallery, a place were girls and guys go to shake their bon bon until all hours of the morning. It was at Waterstreet where we had our first, but not last sighting of a very masculine transsexual going femme by way of early 90’s Cher/In Living Color fly girl.

Unfortunately, not long after we arrived at Waterstreet, the lights when up and the crowd dissipated. The boys all got some last minute mack on though, thanks in large part to Angelface. I was very proud of Angel for leading our single boys not into temptation, but delivering them from the valley of a Saturday night despair. It aint easy being a dude an engineering school; the typical Tech party can only be described as a sausagefest, where lads out number the ladies in great multitudes.

All that dancing and debauchery can sure work up and appetite, and so it was that with happy feet and hungry tummys that the gang found themselves eating cheeseburgers at the ‘D (Micky D’s, that is), at the oh so early hour of 2:30 a.m. It seems other people had the same notion to dine on some greasy vittles, as our friend, the manly transsexual, was also dining at the fine establishment.

The ambiance at McDonalds was simply delightful – the entertainment was spectacular. It seemed that every hungry nucklehead in Blacksburg was dining at the ‘D last night, and every last one of them was lookin to pick a fight. The most startling assailant: a tall blonde in a *very* tight v-neck t-shirt. Apparently she didn’t like it when the random dude in the fuschia shirt yelled “You have HUGE tits!” loud enough that it essentially echoed throughout the hallowed halls of fastfood-dom.

She screamed right back, but it wasn’t about his tits. I believe it was something to the effect of “f- you asshole. I’m gonna beat your ass right now.” The busty blonde then vanished from the restaurant, while the dude in the fuschia shirt chuckled nervously while wetting himself.

Yes, dear readers, last night was truly magical; a night that will not soon be forgotten. The company was good, the drinks were cold and the transsexuals were out full force. When I look back on my college years I won’t remember the textbooks or teachers. I won’t remember the exams, projects and required reading. The things I take with me from this great institution of higher learning will be the things I have written of today: friends, fun and trips to the D’.