I Scream, You Scream

It's nearly two in the morning and I have to be at work tomorrow for my 9-5er (I got a raise today!) but I really have to get something off of my chest.

Ice cream. I love it, can't get enough of it. It's the greatest thing ever invented. I can guarantee you that no one knows ice cream better than I know ice cream. I could go on and on about it, but I'll just try to get to the point.

I always thought that ice cream could do no wrong and any place that made or sold ice cream was great. I've never met anyone or been anywhere that I didn't like so long as I was eating ice cream. This was, however, until the day I walked into a Coldstone Creamery.

They had just opened one in the new shopping center in Harrisonburg and I had heard good things about it, so the Saturday that it opened, I made an appearance. Unfortunately, I went in with a strong desire for strawberry ice cream. Just plain strawberry ice cream, no fancy stuff. Sometimes I like the fancy stuff, but other times there's nothing better than something simple.

For those of you who have no idea what I'm talking about, Coldstone is this ice cream place where you basically create any kind of ice cream you want. They have every kind of topping and every kind of ice cream flavor and you pick whatever you want and they mash it together on a "cold stone" and charge you five bucks a scoop.

What's wrong with this place is not the outrageous price for what is just regular ice cream and is really not any better than any other ice cream parlor. What's wrong are the annoying employees.

I walked in just wanting strawberry ice cream and because it was opening weekend, I was stopped by a manager-type person and given a menu of different ice cream creations that could be created. I was like "uhh.. okay... I really don't need to be educated about ice cream.." I went to the counter and a girl with a lisp said "HI! HAVE YOU EVER BEEN TO A COLDSTONE BEFORE?!" "Um.. no.." "Well let me just tell you a little bit about it!" and I said, "no, that's okay, I just want strawberry ice cream." "JUST strawberry ice cream? Not strawberry cheesecake ice cream or strawberry shortcake ice cream?" "No, just strawberry, plain and simple." "Well, wait, what's your favorite dessert?" "Why does that matter? I just told you I wanted strawberry ice cream." "Okay!"

She mashed some ice cream and strawberries on her cold stone while singing a song with all the other employees about how ice cream is so great and Coldstone is so great. I don't think anyone needs fourteen high school kids to sing them a song about how great ice cream is - all you have to do is EAT IT to know how great ice cream is. Anyway, they just kept singing and singing and after I got charged four dollars and forty-seven cents for my plain strawberry ice cream, I made the mistake of dropping my left over change in the tip jar. Another song immediately commenced, thanking me for my tip as I bolted out the door.

My first Coldstone experience was bad, but I figured I would go when it wasn't opening weekend and maybe it would be less crazy and I would like it better. I decided to go for something a little more fancy than just plain strawberry, but didn't know what I would get. I walked in, went to the counter, and wouldn't you know: "HI! HAVE YOU EVER BEEN TO A COLDSTONE BEFORE?!" "Yeah... I'm going to need a minute because I'm not sure what I want yet.." "Do you want a sample of anything?! How about this one, it's our most popular flavor, and here's a list of all the different flavors people have mixed and the most popular selections and..." SHUT UP I CAN READ YOU STUPID BITCH. While I was in there I heard them sing at least four songs.

The worst thing about that place was that they tried to make me feel stupid for wanting something simple. And they wouldn't ease off when I told them I needed a minute to decide what I wanted. I'm the kind of person who likes to be left alone by sales people. If I need your help, I'll ask for it, and when you've answered my question you can leave me alone. The Coldstone employees didn't want to leave me alone, so I will never set foot in one ever again. Not to mention their stupid songs are enough to drive anyone to the edge.

A few weeks ago, without consulting me first, my friend Priya applied for a job at the new Coldstone in Fair Oaks Mall. After she gave them her application, they called her in for an "audition". She thought they were just kidding and that it would just be a regular job interview. THEY MADE HER MAKE UP A SONG ABOUT ICE CREAM AND HOW MUCH SHE LOVED IT AND SING IT RIGHT ON THE SPOT. These people are breeding ignorance! She didn't get the job because she isn't a stupid girl with a lisp, but after that she didn't want it anyway.

Ice cream is very important to me and Coldstone Creamery is ruining the ice cream experience! This is what's wrong with America, people trying to fix things that don't need fixing, improve things that don't need improving.


I would have tried to articulate my feelings about my one true love a little better, but it's 2am.

All in the Family

My little brother graduated from high school this morning! It was so cute. I made it a point to stand up and yell "YEAH JOHNNY!" when they called his name. I was so obnoxious. Especially since he doesn't go by Johnny outside of the house.

The speeches people gave were awful. The valedictorian totally sucked and they had a student speaker instead of just a regular graduation speaker like a politician or something. The student speaker guy was a complete tool and I could tell he was one of those guys in high school who thought they were a lot cooler then they actually were. I hated those guys. It's kind of like you should know your place in the high school food chain and deal with it.

The worst graduation I've ever been to.

With graduation comes parties and lots of family members. Our house is pretty much packed with extended family. All weekend I get to have my grandma ask me stupid questions like "What size shoe do you wear?" (What?) And after she's asked me about twelve hundred times already, "Are you finished with school? What are you doing this summer?" But the question to end all questions came a few years ago when Grandma asked "How much do you weigh?" at the dinner table surrounded by friends and family. "I weigh 175, Grandma." "You don't look like you weigh 175 pounds. That's too much for you." Thanks. This is what I have to deal with until Sunday afternoon. She's not even senile or anything, she just threw her tact out the window when she turned sixty-five.

My family is crazy and they act like they hate each other. You could cut the tension in this place with a knife. Cliche, yes, but very, very true. I'm thinking I might just drive down to JMU tonight so I can sleep in my own bed instead of on the floor. And watch TV instead of listen to screaming.

Indian Summer: Is it autumn that you're talking about?

So I'm out of here (Harrisonburg) tomorrow and heading back to Centreville, Virginia for the remainder of the summer. I called my old boss and asked her if I could come back and work for the same surgical practice that I have been working for since I was sixteen. Unsurprisingly, I'll be spending the next eight weeks working a 9-5 at Virginia Surgery Associates, P.C. just like I have been for the past eighty million summers. Super.

It should prove to be an interesting summer though. I'll be turning twenty-one in August (yay for drinking legally!) but in reality, my first legal drink was in Western Australia in some bar that I don't remember the name of because of the intense jet lag. Anyway, I'll probably go out and get drunk with my friends in D.C. and I really don't know what could be better than that. And, for the first time since last summer, I will have money as I will also have a real job. I won't be sucking off of my parents anymore, at least not for awhile. I'll be able to buy everything in the J.Crew catalog that I've been drooling over! Yes!

And with that, who is this kid?? Leave it to a VCU student to think that J.Crew is trendy. (Sorry Heather, I love you and you're better than everyone else at that school.) Learn how to write, buddy. And why don't you try to be original?? I totally published my blog on how today's music sucks five days before your "requiem" was published. Coincidence? I don't think so.

People who think they're better than everyone else piss me off. Why don't you go choke on some "Prozacs"?!

I'm really not an angry person. I just have a lot of pet peeves that get me all wound-up.

If you're wondering why I was reading the Fredericksburg Free-Lance Star, I really do have a good reason. There was a trial being held yesterday for a car accident that one of my best friends was involved in. Since it was held in Stafford County and I was unable to attend it, I figured there might be something about it in the Fredericksburg newspaper. But, no. It figures.

Okay I got side tracked. Two more reasons why summer 2004 will be awesome: my parents' beach house and one of my best friends leaving his Australian paradise only to sit in traffic on the Capitol Beltway. And to hang out with me, of course. Honestly, I don't know how he ever had fun over there without me.

Who am I kidding?

With the last day of May session being tomorrow, I have to study for my final exam in US Diplomatic History. It's not even the whole history, we only got to the end of World War II. That's crap because my dad paid for everything up until the latest Iraqi conflict. JMU, you owe me $129.72. Okay really, I have to go pretend to study and write a fifteen page paper on the Cuban Missile Crisis.

Peace out Harrisonburg! I'll miss you Becca!

These chicks don't even know the name of my band

It has come to my attention, from reading my parents' Entertainment Weekly in my undying boredom, that I made an error in my last post. Apparently the band that I mentioned is called Hoobastank, not Hoo-p-astank. To be honest, I could care less how they spell their band name. I think they're awful. Yes, Hoobastank, Kerry Keegan thinks you're awful. Not to mention hopelessly unattractive. I figure as long as I'm dismissing them I should at least spell Hoobastank correctly.

Which brings be to my next point: what is wrong with music today? What the heck happened to it? When I was in high school music had a soul. My friends and I would spend hours upon hours just sitting in my room fooling around with guitars and listening to music. And it wouldn't matter what we'd listen to, almost anything, and it had such an impact on us. Maybe my interests have just changed or maybe it was just that time in my life that made it easy for me to connect with the riffs and solos.

For example, in the Smashing Pumpkins album Adore, you can feel Billy Corgan's pain in the song For Martha. You can feel it so much that you can relate it to your own pain. I used to sit in my room and cry listening to it. Depressing, yes, but songs make me happy too. It was just an example. I'm just saying that I don't connect with music anymore.

The only thing you'll find in my CD cases is a lot of old school stuff and Tori Amos and mixed CD's of old school stuff. I have not purchased a CD within the past year that I did not regret buying, Tori Amos CD's being the exception. Is there something wrong with me? Do I live under a rock and have just not heard of all the great new bands out there? Maybe I'm just too picky.

It's like music is more trendy now than anything. Everything out there seems to just be a fad, like platform shoes or slap bracelets. Yes, I owned lots of platform shoes and slap bracelets, but I don't still wear them. I put them in a big plastic bag and sent them to Good Will a long time ago. Fads fade. And this music that's pouring out of your local radio stations will fade too. Give me something timeless! Like a polo shirt and a pair of J. Crew khakis.

If you have recently purchased a stellar CD, please let me know about it. My ears are dying for something new.

There's a party upstairs! And you're not invited!

Okay, I know I live in what might as well be a college dorm without any supervision or community bathrooms, but come on.

I live in an apartment complex here in Harrisonburg, Virginia that is rented strictly to college students. There would be almost nothing but chickens here in Harrisonburg if it wasn’t for the university. The town consists of about seven or eight apartment complexes and housing developments that are mainly occupied by the students who go to JMU. Without a doubt, it’s a typical college town.

This is both good and bad. On any given night around here you can take a cab, a bus, or carpool to someone’s apartment or frat house where you can definitely get drunk. What’s nice about JMU, that I’ve found to be different at schools like Virginia Tech and West Virginia University, is that you don’t pay for beer at parties. You walk in, grab a cup, and drink as much as you want from the keg that either contains Natty Light or Beast. If you’re lucky, sometimes there’s a trash can full of jungle juice which usually consists of Kool-Aid and a couple handles of Aristocrat Vodka. There’s nothing high class about parties here, but they get the job done.

Living in this dorm type apartment set up without the threat of being busted by an RA or Hall Director, my roommates and I have been invited to a few parties that our neighbors have thrown. All of the invites have been from guys, most of them very neighborly. They come down stairs, knock on the door and say, “Hey, we live upstairs in G, we’re having a Hawaiian themed party tonight and you guys should come up and join us. And if you have any problems with the noise, just let us know.” Nice guys. One time the people next door even came over to ask us if it would be okay for their band to practice for an hour. They were nice guys, too. Just because you live in a college town doesn't mean you have to be unconditionally noisy.

Come to think of it, the reason that living in an unsupervised dorm is a bad thing is because of the girls. Girls are stupid and ridiculous drunk bitches. Guys are nice when they want to be, and respectful of their neighbors. At least that’s the case over here in 1809 Putter Court. Maybe it’s just because they think they’ll get some neighborly lovin’ out of it. Anyway, the girls are obnoxious. They’re the ones who scream outside your door at four o’clock in the morning on a Wednesday and they’re the ones who clomp up the stairs in their big hooker shoes. (I live on the first floor and therefore have no steps to clomp on and I am therefore a better person for it.)

Now, the reason this is pissing me off right now is because the girl above me likes to be obnoxious 24-7. I’ve never met her, but the reason I know she’s a girl is because I can hear her. Occasionally she’ll have a nervous breakdown in which case there will be lots of screaming and things hitting the walls followed by uncontrolled sobbing. Some nights I feel like going up there and giving her a hug and some ice cream. However, this feeling quickly goes away when she starts doing other things. Like right now, I can hear every word of the music she is playing in her room. This has been going on all year, for a long time it was the Milkshake song and last week it was Hoopastank and the past couple of days it's been Missy Elliot. Sometimes I’m lucky and it will be something cool, but not too often. Now that the school year is over and her roommates are probably gone and don’t tell her to turn down her music anymore, she rocks the ceiling constantly. Sometimes it will be the same song for five or six hours. I swear she must leave her apartment and leave her stereo on repeat. Who could listen to the same song for that long?? The same damn baseline over and over and over again. It’s enough to drive someone nuts, especially at two o’clock on a Tuesday morning when you have to get up and go to class in five hours. Du da dun dun da du da dun…. What’s worse is that she also sings. “And the reaaaaasonn issss yoooooooouuuuuuuu and the reaaaaaason isssssss youuuuuuuuuuuuuu.” I can tell you that the girl would definitely not make it past Simon Cowell at an American Idol audition.

I guess if it really bothered me I would go up there and ask her to turn it down, but I doubt she’d hear someone knocking in the first place. A part of me just keeps hoping that she will change. Although, people like that never change.

Shut the hell up!!!!! Respect your neighbors!!!!