yikes!

In North Carolina i almost got eaten by a giant shark! i guess this picture is symbolic now; for those of you who went to school with me you know what i'm talking about. for those of you who didn't let me explain: since i went to University of Illinois, and the shark is in North Carolina... do i neet to explain further??? i don't know much about basketball, i guess you'd call me a "fair weather fan," although i do tend to pay more attention during march madness just to see what happens. Lauren and i kept driving by this store with the giant shark in front of it on the way to TopSail island, where her mom's condo is. i said that before we leave i'm getting a picture of it! we just ran up and took the picture. i felt bad about not going into the store, but we were in a hurry for some reason.

twice in the past two days i've been reminded of the problems i have with our culture. saturday morning i found myself in a police station in chicago asking myself i've given up my freedom for THIS? (but more on that later... miss e did not get arrested but somebody else got locked up for running his mouth). last night after the game i went out with Mr P. it had been a while since we went to that one place we always used to go. of course, there were still a bunch of drunk illinois fans there, beer was spilled all over the tables, the people who worked there were sitting drunk around a table, and the few waitresses who were actually working were rushing frantically to clean up the mess. we're looking for a table when out of nowhere a stuffed animal hits my head. now keep in mind i am wearing a jacket that COULD be mistaken for NC light blue, but it's not - i swear. so i'm feeling very self-conscious about that, and i think some drunk Illinois former frat ass boy is the one who is responsible for the stuffed animal. i look towards him mouthing the words where the hell did this come from? then i go on a tirade about how "american" boys are always hostile towards me when they're drinking. once i was at a party where this one drunk guy almost fell on me. i told him he'd better be careful and then he starts yelling at me not to be a bitch to him. now in argentina for example, if that had happened the guy would have most likely been MUCH nicer and instead of implying that i was being a bitch he would have asked me to dame un beso! in Sylvia Plath's The Bell Jar the main character says something about this guy from greece or somewhere that he had what no "american" boy she'd ever dated had: intuition. i think that's the problem i have with them. more on that later i guess.