Summer. (also known as The End)

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Hello my friends,

My apologies for all my empty promises. When technology (video camera connector cord) goes on strike there is little I can do but scream and flail it around like a whip. Now summer has arrived and I'm technically not getting paid anymore. I could turn this blog into a Curse Word Sanctuary and my bosses have no legal right to punish me. (That may not actually be true; I'll ask my lawyers) But instead I think I will continue with business as usual. Old habits die hard.

Before I continue my Point Loma related blogging, I want to take a Time Out to shamelessly promote my pathetic stab at summer moneymaking. I give you......



aLittleBirdSoldMe.etsy.com... an online vintage 'boutique' (that's rich...) featuring Things I No Longer Want.


Yesterday I coerced my sister Alli into hiking out to a field behind our house and trying on all my merchandise so I could take pictures of it. Here are some of the fruits of our labors. And by labors I mean me wearing a bucket hat and rainboots while swatting mosquitos off her face and yelling "STOP SMILING, THIS CAN'T GO ON YOUR MYSPACE."












I'll be back before long to fulfill my long list of promises (maybe.)
Until then (potentially never),

Kristen


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irrelevance is bliss

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So the year is winding down and classes have ended. Starting Monday we'll all be taking an unpleasant jaunt down Finals Week Lane (not to be confused with Caf Lane, the fashion capital of the Northern Hemisphere). As my good friend Ally Beardsley (alias: BeardsQuest) explained, finals week is like that man you see standing by your car late at night wearing latex gloves and a ski mask. You think to yourself, 'Oh that'll never happen.' Then he's putting you in your trunk. Luckily most of my finals consist of distinguishing between a Cotton blouse and a Rayon blouse, so I'm not as worried as some.

All in all, this has been the best year of my life. I'm a liar by nature, but this time I'm loosely serious. Lessons were learned (i.e. DON'T NOT REGISTER YOUR CAR!!!!!!!!!), pranks were pulled, 3am burritos were consumed (two in a row is not unheard of), important documents were lost, and I laughed until I threw up on hundreds of occasions (white lie). A good year. I'm working on something special for my last post of the year, but until then here is a rundown of some of my Junior Year's Last Hoorahs:

THE RESCUE

I'm sure many of you heard about this. It was an event in support of the Invisible Children... we slept outside by the bay downtown in simulation of what the kids in the LRA camps have to suffer through on a nightly basis. On a much safer and more luxurious scale, though. In accidental keeping with the theme of destruction and misery, the sprinklers came on around midnight and even the typically composed were screaming bloody murder and clawing at the necks of those who weren't running fast enough. My friends and I ended up sleeping on a sliver of grass in the middle of a parking lot and somehow missed the 'waking up' portion of the event... leaving us sketchily passed out until almost noon, while mothers wheeled their strollers past us and shielded their babies' eyes.

(This was supposed to say "LOVE" I believe. The universe couldn't stomach the cliche and instead churned out a lovely "SUK"... Bravo on the end there, Christie. That squiggle is beautiful, if irrelevant.)

...and when i wasn't doing that, I spent the rest of my time doing this:

I'm kidding... I was only like that for a couple of hours.

TO BE CONTINUED, I SWEAR

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