The closest I've come to getting arrested

In the spirit of full disclosure this entry isn't anywhere near as exciting as the title may have suggested.

Earlier today I was just sitting all alone in my apartment, diligently studying (aka facebook), when I was startled out of my innocent complacency by a loud, insistent banging on the front door. I assumed it was just someone from the building, as no one else ever randomly knocks on our door.

I was not expecting a big, burly police officer. I was certainly not expecting him to glare at me and say, "Well, come on."

Fortunately, my very confused look proved effective. He countered it with a skeptical look and asked if I was Hannah. Not being Hannah, I responded accordingly. After dragging out my ID and having it thoroughly inspected complete with multiple glances between me and my picture, it was firmly decided that I was in fact not Hannah.

However, the nefarious Hannah could still have been lurking in the apartment. I'm not sure where she could have hidden in the shoebox, but that Hannah is a tricky sort. Fortunately, proving that I was not Hannah seemed to have established some credibility, so I only had to assure the officer that Zach was the only other person who lived here, and no he was not home, no, no one else was here either, and yes, I was very sure.

After proving my non-Hannahness and asserting my awareness of who does and does not live in the shoebox with me, he grudgingly admitted that this might be the wrong apartment. And with that he was off to find the true Hannah. One other officer stopped by a few minutes later, but she was more immediately trusting of my nonHannahnimity.

So, I suppose today I am very grateful to my parents for not naming me Hannah. One, I'm glad to not share a name with the latest release from Disney's tween star factory. Secondly, and most importantly, being arrested or whatever they plan to do to Hannah would have been slightly inconvenient. Thanks folks!

The street where we live

While it is still hotter than it has any right to be (as evidenced by my continual habit of sticking my head in the freezer), today was just so lovely and alive that I suppose I may be inclined to forgive it. Management's promise to turn the lovely, cold air on tomorrow may also have helped to facilitate the forgiving spirit.

The hot weather also gave Zach and I a good excuse to go grab some gelato, and since it was so lovely I figured I may as well take the opportunity to present this neighborhood I reside in in a flattering fashion.

I love all the big trees that line the street where we live. Now that they're back to being all leafy again, I love them even more.


This is the building we live in. Its very, solidly mediocre. So lets focus on the trees, ok?


I didn't get any good pictures during cherry blossom season, and by now they've mostly turned into leaves. But let me assure you, they were quite lovely. I'm sure you can google a picture, if it makes you feel better, you can just pretend I took it.


Look! It's Zach next to a tree.

I'm also a huge fan of the many awesome old houses in our neighborhood. Old houses just have this great vibe to them, they're so fun and unique and awesomely quirky. A lot of the houses around here have some amazing stonework and kind of have this European cottage vibe. This house is one of my favorites - I love the big wood door, the beautiful stone and the funky swiss top.


Unfortunately, once we discovered all the cool houses, our pilgrimages to Whole Foods have become increasingly common. I know its expensive and a little pretentious, but the food is just so much better than our sad local Giant. They're produce section is just so shiny and smells nice. I've been thoroughly seduced.


That's pretty much it. Big trees, cool houses, and seductive fruit. All in all, its not a half bad place.

Hot stuff

It is hot. Very hot. And uncomfortable. And sticky. Did I mention the hot?

And oh look, a perfectly nice air conditioner. Just sitting there three feet away from me. The problem? It's. Just. Sitting. No cold air, absolutely nothing. Mocking me. It's not broken, it has no good excuse for not relieving the hotness. The building people just haven't deemed it necessary to turn it on yet, and we measly residents have no power. We just get to sit here being hot and mocked.

I really, really hate this shoebox furnace apartment.

Suicidal ipod Curse

My steady i-pod appears to have given up to ghost. Sure, its been a little persnickety for a while now, but all I had to do was reset and it would happily let me create a little personal music bubble, allowing me to further isolate myself from those around me. But now, no matter what I do, it just stares back at me with its sad little ipod face with the morbid x's instead of eyes.

My best explanation is some sort of a technology curse, or possibly the ghost of my old laptop, luring the sweet, innocent ipod to the other side. Or possibly the time I meant to put my i-pod in my purse, but instead dropped it, where it then met up with my walking foot, which drop kicked it onto the sidewalk. But as that was over a year ago, and its been working fine lately, I'm going with the curse theory. It's really the only logical option.

However, this really shouldn't be a big deal. Not to long ago Zach made a much needed upgrade to a new mac, which came with a lovely free ipod touch. I immediately laid claim to Zach's old i-pod, reveling in the idea of an i-pod that could do such magical things as hold all of my music, work, and even had the added bonus of color!

This i-pod didn't just slowly fade away in a dignified fashion, like my old ipod. No this one committed suicide and tried to take my computer along with it. As Zach had been the previous user, it was formatted for use on a Mac. So, I reset it to the original factory settings, and plugged it in to upload my music. A few minutes after plugging it in, my computer blue screened. So I tried again, and once again the i-pod lashed out and blue screened my computer. I've tried everything I can think of, but that thing just sits there, all empty and lifeless until I plug it in and it tries to kill my computer. Leaving me the proud owner of two useless ipods.

Yup, its definitely a curse.

Throw out the baby

"Let's not throw the baby out with the bathwater"

Probably the worst metaphor to use when discussing abortion. EVER

Oh Con Law, I will miss your inappropriate, awkward, hilariousness.

(Also funny, but probably just to me. I just read a case where Scalia cites a painting. A freakin' painting. Clearly the best source for legal values. very strictly construed. Oh Scalia, if only I could give you a hug and a vicodin)