"Wait, I'm representing COLOMBIA? WHAT DO I LOOK LIKE?! A DRUG DEALER?!"

So I'm chillin' like a villain in International Relations. (Definitely how I roll.)
Sittin' next to my girl Alex. She's rockin' the iChat and looking gorgeous, PER USUAL.
ANYWAYS
My 42975923 year old professor is talking about Peru and back taxes. I have no idea what's going on...
Yesterday I had to represent Colombia in class (when I REEEEALLY wanted to be Russia....) and ended up getting in a dispute with Japan AND Russia. In the end I was 'kicked out' of the United Nations because I started yelling at the two countries and threatened to toss cocaine everywhere.
I'd be a FABULOUS ambassador.
So recently I've discovered I need to branch out. I need to meet MORE people. Seems odd because I've met about 248723058723975 new people. But...it hasn't been bad...

And I don't even wanna DISCUSS my Stats grade right now.

Yesterday I got my third Halloween costume. It's a cop! Sexy one, NATURALLY. But it's AWESOME and I love it. The name tag says 'Officer Ivana B. Bad'. LOL Y'all will see pictures.

Also, I've discovered and a new show called Castle. It's about a mystery/thriller bestselling writer who teams up with a detective to research his next book (granted, this is the plot in a nutshell). He has a super-smart red haired 15 year old daughter and a crazy, ex-Broadway mother (I feel like, when I'm old, I shall become her) who live with him in his penthouse in NYC. PLUS, the actor who plays Castle (the author) is GORGEOUS and named Nathan Fillion (not...Dave Fillion....) and is just....yummy yummy yummy.

So......other than that...I dunno what to tell ya...

This is Fiona, signing off. BOOYAH.

"Oh, Coach, I ALWAYS score."

Rugby has been added to the summer Olympics. I've decided I should try out for the women's American rugby team. Just to be a badass AND win a gold medal. And maybe fuck Michael Phelps. And the entire Irish men's rugby team.
But that's just an idea.
So, since my name has so kindly been given to a zombie-annihilator (I love you) I officially named my team's match ball Chloe.
And, in even an awesomer turn of events, my team grew to the name within the night and now also calls our beautiful, brand new match ball Chloe.

(In games, players must refer to referees as 'sir'.)

Emily: "Sir, don't drop Chloe in the mud!"
Me: "She likes it dirty. It's okay."

Today was our semi-final game for my rugby game. If we beat Hoffstra next Sunday, we win the championship. Awesome? I think so. Unfortunately, yesterday I sprained my ankle so I was unable to play. Hopefully I'll be able to tomorrow. You should see the mother of a bruise on my inner thigh...it's gorgeous.

BlogNazi has been harassing me about my lack of blogging. And she's right. My apologizes.

I recently bought both Zoolander and The House Bunny on iTunes and have decided that, at some point, I need to reenact the Walk-Off scene from Zoolander with somebody and a David Bowie impersonator. Or just the REAL David Bowie. And on Wednesday I'm going to the costume store with a few friends and looking for a Bunny costume. Watching Anna Faris makes me wanna be a Playboy bunny. Not that I haven't always wanted to be one.

(PS, the new girls are WEIRD. And the head girlfriend had to have dinner with Holly and it was SORTA awkward. And when she held out her bunny necklace and said "I got it on eBay for $6!" Holly gave her a look that said "my white gold bunny necklace was given to me by Hef....bitch...").

ALSO, my parents visited me this weekend! SO HAPPY! I restocked on food (and money) and promised my mom I wouldn't hurt myself TOO BAD playing rugby ("Sweetie, I don't care about your legs...just don't hurt your face. Your cotillion dress will cover your legs but...not your face...."). Also Dad ponied up the money for three of my team's kegs. It was awesome.

I know there's more to talk about but I'm having trouble remembering it....that's the problem with not blogging for two weeks...:-/

I miss you all. <3
Much love.

DJ, Blow My Speakers Up

Where have I been for the past two weeks?

This music video might as well be an autobiography of moi.

I'll post more in full later. Most likely tomorrow morning.

Till then? Malibu is callin'.

"Of course Jersey is better. We don't say HELLA."

I feel like everyone and their mother are blogging now.

Hey. Like sex, the more the merrier. :)

So...today was kind of a Star Wars day. I'm finding that my secret is becoming to large to be...a secret anymore. It's odd: the older I get, the more mature (...what?), the more I freaking love Star Wars.

THE CLONE WARS SEASON TWO PREMIERE IS THIS FRIDAY AT 8.

But I will be missing it. I will be in New York with Tutti...

It's worth it. ;) I'll find it online Saturday morning (be prepared, Kel).
My theatre teacher used two examples for tragic figures in well-known movies. Characters who sacrifice themselves for the greater good.

Theatre Teacher: "...What...what is that one line from Star Wars: A New Hope...where Vader and Obi-Wan are fighting and--"
Me: "'IF YOU STRIKE ME DOWN, I SHALL BECOME MORE POWERFUL THAN YOU COULD POSSIBLY IMAGINE!"
Theatre Teacher: *Blink...Blink* "Any Star Trek fans? What does Spock say as he's dying, his hand up against the glass and Kirk on the other side...?"
Me: *Slowest Blink Possibly* "Wait...weren't we talking about Star Wars?" *Tries to text Cherry from within Marc Jacobs bag but FAILS EPICALLY because there is apparently NO RECEPTION in the theatre*
Theatre Teacher: "'The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few.'"

I do not know if this is true or not, what Mr. Spock said, considering it's what my theatre teacher declared but I'm sure some follow-up comments will set me straight.

I miss you all so much. No joke. It burns I miss you guys so much.
Why not just...comment on this post and tell me how you all are? Please? I'd love that. <3

BUT I did find a fellow Californian: her name's Natalie and she went to Saint Ignatius in San Francisco. We sit and talk about California together and make fun of Luke for being from Jersey.

Also, there's this UBER NERDY KID in my english class. Like, he has the semi-lisp and everything. We were partnered for a project. I misspelled a word and laughed saying, "Look at me! I wanna be a writer and I can hardly spell anything." Well after saying that the kid tilted his head...as if he were evaluating me. He said, "You want to be a writer? What kind?" I felt suddenly very vulnerable so I displayed a rather normal Fiona-stance and narrowed my eyes, smirking somewhat, "Fantasy, Science Fiction. Maybe some mystery and spy thrillers." The kid nodded, took off his glasses like some aged professor/mentor and began CLEANING THEM in that haughty fashion that tenure professors do at Trinity College, when they're talking down to a lowly undergraduate student who dreams of winning a Pulitzer Prize. "Oh really? I have three books of poetry out. What's your name?" Now, I'm not typically an incredibly jealous person (...no comment...) but...when a 19-year-old BOY is sitting in front of me, someone I am PRETTIER THAN (sorry, did that sound conceited?), talking about his three published collections of poetry, I tend to get a bit irritated. And envious.

It's my fault though. I need to jump on my writing.

But it gets better:
Kid: "Do you need references? I can give you a good list of publishers who respect my opinion. Gimmie some of your stuff and I'll put in a good word. They totally trust me."
Now, I totally appreciated the gesture and I know he was trying to be nice but in my already envious state, it just sounded stuffy and elitist. Whatever. He writes poetry. It's like cheating. Try and write a novel next time. (Not that I hate poetry. I don't. I actually love it but...You have to understand, I was very upset at the moment, lol).

BREAKING NEWS:

KELSEY SCANLON SAW SIGNORE WEIDEMAN IN BOSTON!!!!!!!!!!!! I know Ali already knows this but Kelse called me up about an hour ago to tell me. I was rolling on the ground. AWESOME. SIGNOREEEEEEEEEEEE!!! Boston kids, believe you me, I shall be coming up for a weekend and we'll all have lunch with Signore. I know you guys already are but...NEXT TIME I WILL BE THERE WITH YOU. <3 Give him my best please. :) And tell him I'm STILL taking Italian.

Quote of the Day?
Alex: "I need, like, a full body Ugg. Just one giant Ugg. Something like a snuggie but an Ugg..."
Me: "...An Uggie?"

PS: Humor me. He voices Obi-Wan Kenobi on the Clone Wars. He's a freaking beast and....*girlish squeal* adorable.

PPS: Sorry for grammatical errors in the above post. I'm just NAWT in the mood to re-read what i wrote and edit. So...this is FIONA: Live and Uncensored.

"Gli Uomini?"

Hey y'all. Sorry, sorry, I know, once again a large parcel of time has come between my blogging. MY BAD.

But ForceCast had James Arnold Taylor on and..I couldn't resist.

NEW PLAN:
I need to intern on the writing team at LucasFilm. Like..really. It needs to happen. I have so many good ideas and I wouldn't care if I had to fetch coffee every morning for 16, drive an hour and a half or WIPE THE WRITERS' ASSES as long as I was interning. Just saying.

And remember how I said EVERYONE on the East Coast shortens their words?
Cut to Tuesday night (Yeah, I was out on Tuesday...):
Girl 1: "It totally smells like VOM in here."
Me: "I'm sorry...what?"
Girl 1: "Ya know. Vom."
Me: "You mean VOMIT?!"

*Internal growl* It was ridic.

...NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! IT'S SPREADINGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG!

Anyways.
Visiting Tutti brightened my entire month. For real. We had SO MUCH FUN and saw 9...
I'll not comment on 9. It was a piece of art but...I still have questions.
And we went to CHIPOTLE. I thought of you, Cherry. <3
Whilst walking through an Italian Festival, finding a Dean & Deluca and spotting at least 285 people dressed in lederhosen we both came to the conclusion that we love New York. Given.

My dad sent me my PS3, a TV and DVD player. I've watched Gladiator, Coraline, Sunshine, Pan's Labyrinth, Casino Royale, Star Wars: Episode I and, of course, Marie-Antoinette (twice). It's being put to good use, lemme tell ya.

The week went by fairly quickly. Nothing extreme or unusual. Just a typical Fiona week...whatever the hell THAT means...

Friday night FUSA (Fairfield University Student Association) put on the Presidential Ball. We all got dressed up, slapped our heels on, pre-gamed and stumbled up the hill to Bellermine Lawn (the fancy-schmancy place where the Texas woman spoke. I think it was, like, my second post. It's epic). Very fun but half-way through I had to escort two friends back DOWN the hill to their rooms because apparently I can hold down nine shots WAY better than most people.

My friend Luke has acquired his 22-year-old lookalike brother's Florida ID which says he turns 21 in 2008. Lemme tell ya...it works. Three trips to Shop N' Stop (crossing the street to Fairfield Liqueur and Spirits) later and we're stocked. They must think we're alcoholics. Or at least college students. ;D
But in all honesty I haven't been hardcore recently. My work had been keeping me in my room, blasting music. I need to do well. :)
Also I saw Father What-A-Waste today. That reeeeally gorgeous Ewan McGregor lookalike priest I sat next to during Convocation. He waved to me in all his glorious robes and flashed that perfect smile. I melted internally.

This upcoming weekend I shall be spending the entirety of with Tutti in NYC. :) Very excited. It will be her best birthday yet. She better be READY because we're NAWT STOPPIN'.

Okay. Well. Once I have more, I shall write. :) Back to watching Season 3 of Will & Grace.

PS: Check out Brit-Brit's new single, 3. It's AH-FUCKING-MAZING.

"Don't tell your coach you were jello wrestling last night and try to convince me you're not hung over, JESS."

Meant to put this in my last post.

Me: *Standing in rain during practice* "It's like a cold shower...with a lotta people."
Coach/Hesser Jr. Look Alike: "How many people do you usually shower with, Fi?"
Me: "Depends on the day."

SORRY. I'm going POST HAPPY tonight. Mainly because I'm SO HAPPY to be back in the blogging world. YAY.

Anyone know where I can score a fake? My connection here fell through (again. ugh). I'll pay good money. I'm dead serious.

Mmmm.

I gotta say...I wish I was Amanda Seyfried in this scene...


I know it looks like a porn site but on the blog I read it was advertised and it just took me there...I don't normally watch porn...

Or do I?

"Say 'I want you'. Say it."

Also, I watched the Final Cut of Blade Runner today...
Gawd DAMN that rough scene between Harrison Ford and Sean Young (a woman) is SO HAWT.
I would let Harrison push me up against a wall and talk dirty ANY DAMN DAY. Future or not.

The One Where Frutti Makes Up For Lost Time

Wow.

So, FIRST OFF lemme just apologize for the HUGE gap.

The past...five days or so have been EVENTFUL.

Let's start from the beginning:

You should've been there. I was running down the field, the rugby ball tucked beneath my arm. My teammates flanking me were tackled, I was so close. I ran and ran but the senior on my tail just happened to be faster. As she pulled me down, I twisted my body so that I could present the ball back to my team and not be called on a off-side penalty. As I twisted, my thumb collided with her metal cleats and a sickening RIIIIIP echoed through the chilly air. As I began to sit up, I felt hot blood flowing from a very deep slash in my finger....

Nah, I'm just kidding. I was opening a package from home (I was clearly VERY excited) and sliced my thumb open. Forty-five minutes later I was at the hospital (the Health Center at school was too lame) getting five stitches in my thumb.

The Doctor: "Wow, any deeper and you would've cut your tendon!"

Me: "...thanks."

The Doctor: *to nurse* "Can you thread that? My depth perception seems to be off..."

Me: *shits a brick*

(BTDub, the doctor was from Alabama and had an accent. She kept talking to me too. Is it bad that all I could think of while she sewed me up was Robert Francis?)

Anyways, about five days later my finger is fine. Still loaded with stitches but healing. It was a very deep cut.

And then...

My Rugby Social.

FU is located next to the water. A majority of juniors/seniors live in very swanky beach houses. Well, an ex rugby girl lives in THE FUCKING BEST beach house. It's HUGE and has a giant spiral wooden staircase, low, mood ceilings with swinging paper lanterns and lots of comfy couches. And a huge fireplace. Oh, and the water practically KISSES the beach chairs ten feet from the back door. It's gorgeous.

We pilled into a girls car and went to our social where some minor initiations took place.

It was the entire Rugby girls team. An amazing chance for us all to bond.

I won't get into details. Just...a lotta shit went down. I got home around 4 AM.

And I learned team songs.

Ironically, Rugby has a lot of singing and dancing coordinated into it. Being an ex-theatre kid I find this very fitting and yet another reason why I should stick with rugby.

Here's one of our team songs:

MiMiMiMi

YouYouYouYou

WEEEEE'RE FEMALE LADY RUGGERS,

WE'RE RUGGERS OF THE NIGHT,

WE'RE MOTHERFUCKING BITCHES, WE'D RATHER FUCK THAN FIGHT

WE FUCKED THE FARMER'S GRANDSON, WE DRANK THE FARMER'S BEER..

I don't remember the rest of the song. And trust me, there are 100 other songs I gotta learn. And no, we don't sing that at games.

Next.

Our first game versus Sacred Heart, our biggest rival from across town.

It's a small team, Sacred Heart's but...the girls are monsters.

Peaches in particular.

Oh, you don't know Peaches? Well, lemme give you a quick image...

Hulk Hogan (bleach blonde man-hair and everything) packed into a five foot three inch sophomore girl.

You know how people have t-shirts that say 'I climbed Mount Everest and all I got was this shirt'? Well, my team have 'I tackled Peaches'.

We made her cry during the game. A bad tackle. I did feel bad. We hit her pretty hard.

And you know what, bitches?! WE FUCKING WON! 13 to 12. ;D I obviously didn't play but I watched and ran up and down the side lines screaming my heart out. It was awesome.

Continuing...

Um, any news concerning men is good. We're friends. :) Um...I'm nawt gonna put details here or anything. So...ask.

And UGH, I'm sorry this is all Rugby related but I feel like that's ALL I've been doing for the past week and a half.

Today a very scary thing happened.

Our assistant coach, John, collapsed from (what we think) was a minor heart attack on the field today near the end of practice. A majority of us started tearing up while two girls sprinted to the parking lot, one called 911 and another called public safety. He's the NICEST MAN EVER although oldish. He had especially been helpful with the new players (I.E. moi). Well, after a minute and a half of us freaking out, Burg (my Hesser look alike head coach) calmly propping Coach John up, Coach John babbling incoherently and randomly bending his knee and loosing feeling in his right arm, the ambulance arrived. Coach John was back to normally and cheerfully explaining what happened to the EMTs and eighty policemen standing around. He's THAT type of guy. After having a near death experience he apologizes to the public service men for wasting their time. Well, considering he was probably already embarrassed enough that 32 college girls had just watched him collapse, the team decided it would be best if we went to dinner. Being watched while hauled onto a stretcher would be embarrassing enough without a million girls watching...

We all ate together and prayed for his fast recover.

Moving awn...

My dad mailed me my PS3 and all my games. Thanks dad. The TV/DVD/Blu-Ray is next. AND my posters are up! :D I'll post more pictures once my email stops being freakish...

Oh and I OWNED my Italian test today. ;) Fuck yeah.

I know more shit happened but I can't think of it all right now...and I promise never to have such a lapse again in blogging. And the next few things won't be rugby related.

And this weekend shall be EPIC. Why?

BECAUSE I AM GOING TO SEE TUTTI!!!!!!!!!!!! <3>

Well...

I'm gonna go watch Conan now with Cherry. PEACE.

Hey

I know it's been forever since I last blogged..

I'm just letting you all know that I will definitely be catching up on missed days. :)

But for now...

Fuck guys.

We Know 15 Positions and Go for 80 Minutes

"Rugby is a beastly game played by gentlemen; soccer is a gentleman’s game played by beasts; football is a beastly game played by beasts." 

-- Henry Blaha

"Rugby is a wonderful show: dance, opera and, suddenly, the blood of a killing." 

--Richard Burton, Welsh Actor

Ruck me, Maul me, Make Me Scrum.

Last night, between the times of five o'clock PM and eight o'clock PM, my initiation to Fairfield Women's Rugby Team took place. 

Our coach met us at the school's massive playing field, its occupants including the men's rugby team (who, twenty minutes before had scared a high school soccer team off the field) and us. Around us towered the ancient counterpart to Bellermine Manor, an arena version of the old house. It looked like a Quidditch pitch in all honesty. I felt like Oliver Wood was gonna emerge and show me the snitch. We all got there early and mingled with the returning players. They're all so nice and hilarious and I love them all. Sporting short-shorts, t-shirts and colorful cleats, we walked to the center of the colossal field to meet our coach. It was ominous--surrounding us was this feeling of sheer and unadulterated strength. The cold stands were empty and ancient towers that graced the four points of the field emitted this hollow whistle from the evening wind blowing through them. The air smelt like spilt blood from previous games and sweat. But, like, victorious sweat. I dunno. It was just incredibly epic. 

Our coach is 26 years old. Our coach went to Fairfield prep and Fairfield University. Our coach is a beast. And...

Well.

He looks almost exactly like Professor Hesser. Hess Jr. Baby Hess. Like...I was stunned. I couldn't talk. 

*Pause for reaction....I'm looking at you, Cherry.*

First we learned how to pass. It's an extremely different game from anything else. I mean, if I had to compare it to another sport, it would be football but even when compared to football, Rugby is so much different. 

There are 15 positions, split into two groups: Forwards and Backs.

Games last roughly eighty minutes.

You can't pass the ball forward (@#%$&@* I'm having trouble with this one). Like, at all. Not even at your side. You have to pass behind you. Meaning, when running down the field, you have to be steep in order to be able to pass behind you and into the arms of a fellow team mate. 

Bawls, man.

And scoring is called a 'try'. When you pass the line you have to press the ball to the ground in order to score a point. Simply crossing the line isn't good enough for these people. 

There are also things called 'rucks' and 'scrumflies' and 'flyholds'. 

Oh, and PS: we don't wear protective padding or helmets. 

Just cleats and a mouthguard. And spandex. 

Fabulous. 

This may all seem annoyingly different and ridiculous but I am having the time of my life. I wasn't too bad during the first practice. I apparently have a knack for Rugby and never knew it. 

We drilled. And drilled. And drilled. Then ran laps. Then drilled and ran more laps. Then, SURPRISE, we drilled again. Half the field was ours while the other belonged to the hefty, 60-person men's rugby team. Us? Measly 30 players or so. But that's not bad at all. 

And our team is hawt. 

Afterward we huddled, all of us panting and sweat-drenched, a team captain welcomed the new comers and said how happy the team was to have us. We put ours hands in the middle, a colorful mosaic of girls streaked with mud. We were like a post card for rich New England prep schoolers. All in newly received FU rugby uniforms (which are POLOS) and black shorts, striped knee-highs and cleats. 

"On three, ladies."

"One-two-three---FAIRFIELD!"

I think I'm gonna like rugby. 

*Chloe Runs Away With My Jacket* *Pause and Climax* *Dramatic Turn* My Jacket!

This just came on my shuffle. 

Kel.

GET AWN THIS. PRONTO TANTO.

Anyways. I have time to kill before theatre. Why not blog?

Besides writing a three page analysis of the first scene of Romeo & Juliet last night, I ordered some SCRUMTRULESCENT Chinese food. Wasn't bad but it's made me realize just how much I miss my mom's cooking. I mean, I can GET a grilled cheese here but...not my mom's grilled cheese. I dunno what she does but somehow it's always better when mom's makes it. She either sprinkles crack or love on her grilled cheeses because, lemme tell ya, they are ADDICTING. 

Secondly, I saw a girl today who, from now on in my mind, will be Megan Fox. I mean, this girl's face is a CARBON COPY of Megan Fox. Her smile, her eyes, her hair color, her freckles, her everything! Her FACE is MEGAN FOX. It's freakin' awesome and slightly scary. I have to admit I was staring somewhat creepily at her. She didn't notice. I think. 

Not only that but her name is somewhat like Megan Fox's too. I can't remember it exactly but her first name begins with an 'M' and her last with an 'F'. Like...Molly Fly....or maybe it rhymed.....Shmegun Mox. She'd BE Megan Fox if her body wasn't so bony and straight and flat and awkward. Very sad. 

SECONDLY, y'all know that 'Can I have yo numba?' MAD TV scene?

That JUST happened to me about fifteen minutes ago. For real. 

Except the kid was white. So it was even MORE awkward. He was hella wangster. 

Footnote:

People on the East Coast LOOOOVE shortening their favorite phrases or adjectives.

For example:

Awkward=Awk

Precious=Pres

Awesome=Awe

Wicked=Wick

Can someone please enlighten me as to why this is considered okay? Please?

Rugby Balls and Apologizes

Soooo, FIRST OFF...

Ali, I do apologize but some how I managed to follow you TWICE and I dunno how to undo the first one (Fi). So...sorry. I'm just following you twice as much with twice as much love. Consider yourself honored. (I love you.)

Second...

I am officially a FU rugby player. 

The team is SUPER laid back and the girls are SO NICE. I cannot express it enough. :) The team captains say Fairfield's known for having the prettiest women's rugby team on the East Coast. At the Beast of the East, a women's rugby tournament, the upperclassmen (upperclassgirls?) say that a majority of the teams are uber butch while ours is gorgeous and badass in the Angelina Jolie sense.

So stoked.

And the parties shall be endless. ;D

"...Do you mind if I make your last name 'Skywalker' in my phone?"

The only noise that echoed throughout the ancient chamber was the clicking of her heels, a lone march on the marble floor. Her skin was rough against the stone and the idle smoke of a dying cigarette created shapes in the air, cradling against the soft darkness. Red fingertips grazed harsh grey columns, moving hesitantly towards the center of the room. The piano looked lonesome so she sat at it, the mirrors that surrounded her reflecting images of a dark haired woman, willing to spin a tale of love so deep it could be considered madness. She played, her chords haunting. From the darkness emerged tall beings, their eyes large and iris' white. They circled her, broke into pairs and danced: a slow, intimate dance that only deepened the atmosphere, a swirling need for desire and love, of being wanted. She was their storyteller, their weaver of dreams, their salvation. They were her eager audience, her loyal disciples. They did what she wanted, they danced with her notes. The woman--for she was no longer a girl--did not know this but she knew of her influence. Perhaps not of its power, but she knew it existed. She could feel it flow through her fingers as she played, feel it cloud her mind with ecstasy and bliss. Her heart urged her to fall into that cloudy haze of need as her mind scolded her, told her to repel it. When she paused, when she faltered, the notes continued to ring heavenward, bouncing up the cold tower. The pairs stopped, straightening to gaze at her, their eerie eyes questioning. A man appeared from the rim of darkness, his hair black as his home and his skin pale as the marble floor. He navigated the dancers and knelt beside the woman, his sharp nose turned slightly down to her. The back of his hand fell across her cheek and he tilted his head, pursing his lips to say, "such a beautiful gift." He kissed her fingertips, "deserves a beautiful reward." 

Soooooo, I have no idea what THAT was but...I got the urge. 

Hey y'all. :)

So, I'm gonna pull a Greg/Kel and just quickly say how much everyones' blogs make me happy. Like...ice-cream-on-a-hawt-day-next-to-Liam-Neeson happy. Or secretly-married-to-Bono happy. Or New-York-Times-Best-Seller-List-FUCK-YEAH-happy. Or...well, you get the picture. :) So I thought I'd just say something--ya know, keep up with the trends. 

Last night was the first officially sketch night. Around 1:45 AM we heard of an 'after-party' at the townhouses. As a group (8 of us) we trekked up the hill to the townhouses, to number 68 to be precise. It was packed and people were outside, just chatting. Entering, we had to walk up a flight of stairs and when we reached the top, we all suddenly realized that there was a considerable absence of light. People were passed out everywhere and with our phones out and lit up to guide us, we fucking BOOKED IT OUTTA THERE. I was in the lead. I hadn't be for the party to begin with but a good friend of ours, who was in the group, knew the kid throwing it really well.

Well, after 10 seconds at the party I didn't care if he was the fucking Pope, I high-tailed it out with seven girls and one boy hot on my heels. We left. I guess that's what college is for: discovering your boundaries and testing out what you're comfortable with. And I DEFFO was NAWT comfy at that party. The one guy hanging with us was an incredibly, heart-crushing sweetie pie named Lucas. People call him Luke. I call him Skywalker. 

BTW, Chloe, I wore that leopard dress. ;) No one dresses up over here: always jeans and, like, a 'nice shirt'. Fuck that. I wore a dress, a longish, cardigan-like sweater over it and giant gold earrings. Bring it, East Coast. 

Other than that, the night was quiet. Went home and slept in a new nightie I bought. Very happy. Also I got half of Kellyn's birthday present: yeah, Tutti, you SHOULD be excited. <3

Tonight at 8 PM I'm heading to Townhouse 151 for a Rugby Info Session with my friends Ashley and Wisconsin (her name's Sara but she's from Wisconsin so...we all call her Wisconsin...). We're VERY excited and I reeeeeally wanna make the team. Good exercise, an amazing way to get involved and a total chance to kick ass! 

Well, other than that I've been reading Romeo & Juliet all day, writing papers and doing some stats homework. An all over quiet day. My friend Cait dubbed today "National Fairfield Student Hangover Day". Typical. 

I gotta go workout. Peace y'all. 

xoxoxoxoxoxoxo

PS: Awesome. ;)

Conan O'Saucey

I forgot to add something to that cluster fuck of things Fiona loves and desires...

Conan O'Brien.

Enough said. My adoration for the man knows no bounds. 

And, hell, let's add Bono too. ;)

And the HEBREW HIJACKERS. 

HaHAHaHhAHAHaHAHAhahAHAHA!

Two-Face: "Get outta my FACE, clown."

Joker: "Which one?"

What have I been doing, you ask? I actually called it a night quite early. Pizza and beer is too fattening for me. ;) I bailed around 11:45 and headed back home, much to the disappointment of some sophomore named Gabe.

Sorry, dude.

Once home (my roommate was gone) I started watching the first season of Batman: The Animated Series from the early 1990s onward. 

When I was young my dad bequeathed to me all his original, 1960s Batman comics. My love for the hero has only grown ever since then. I religiously watched the animated series in the 90s and the Joker, naturally, is and always has been my favorite villain of all time. Even when I read the comics I knew my love for the character was full and true. I always told myself that if I were to trade in my cushy, prep existence for a life of crime I would call myself the Joker. Or Harley Quinn. She's my second favorite. I want to be BE HER. <3

Even more recently, my heart has grown fonder for Joker after making the discovery roughly a year ago that Mark Hamill, AKA Luke Freaking Skywalker, provided the voice of the Joker in the animated series. The very one I grew up with. Well this naturally blew my fucking mind. 

Now, if I wasn't such a DIE-HARD, OBSESSIVE, ANNOYINGLY LOYAL, FREAKISHLY CRAZED Star Wars fan, this little tidbit of information would not mean much to me. But since I AM, well then, it's a cluster fuck of all things Fiona loves and desires. Star Wars...Batman, more specifically, the Joker...what more could a fan girl want? Besides, say, a true replica of Obi-Wan Kenobi's lightsaber? His second one, mind you. Nawt the first version he totes around in Episode I. Maul kicks it down the generator shaft, remember? Annnnnd maybe we could add James Arnold Taylor (skip to 1:14. Guess which character he voices, ;D) to that cluster fuck, perhaps? More emphasis on the fuck than cluster on that one, naturally. 

Now, as I drone on about Star Wars and the Joker, I've come to a few realizations about my odd and often shunned obsessions...

1. When I'm drunk, I often make friends and then tell them I love Star Wars. Not surprisingly, we're never friends the next day. 

2. When hiding various Star Wars paraphernalia from outside world, placing them in CLEAR plastic container is not such a good idea. ("Hey Fions....is that a Star Wars book in there?")

3. Why can't Superman & Batman fans just be friends?

4. Sean Connery is a beast. And, yes, I know this one is random but...it's gotta be said. 

For that, I'll end my fan girl splurge..

And hit ya with a fast ball.

September 7th I'm attending an info session about the girls' Rugby club team. I wanna play rugby--I know nothing of it and have never played but the flyer said 'experience not necessary or expected' so...as long as I have the will to kick major quantities of female ass, I think I qualify. Lemme know what y'all think of the rugby thing. I'm interested in peoples' opinions. :)

I ordered two strings of pink Playboy bunny lights for my room. Very excited. ;D

xoxo

PS: Just to make Kel happy, I barely drank tonight. ;) I'm being safe, Kel, I promise. Besides, Frutti cannot leave Tutti or universe will explode. I heart you. 

PSS: I realize now that I went kinda 'video-link crazy' on this post. My apologizes. But each one is good. :) To watch videos, click on white words. They're the links. :)

I'm Sorry. I Never Got my Hogwarts Letter...

Gah. 

Past few days have been a whirlwind of events.

First I experience the rest of my classes. Then we're visited by a Texan who cannot speak correctly, followed by a procession of freakin' wizards. Lastly, the townhouse I was partying in tonight got busted by security and I booked it out the back door and down the hill, contributing to the flow of freshmen/sophomore/junior rampage that spilled back onto campus. 

Yeah. 

I'm beginning to wonder if I've become that girl...you know...?

International Relations is taught by a 85+ year old man who switches from Spanish to English and I'm not sure if he realizes it...Nor can he hear. We played a game yesterday where the class was split into four groups. Each group represents a world power. We're supposed to play fair. Naturally, I get the fuckin' Castro-bitch in my group who wants to overthrow the other three countries and become the world's single super power. As Ambassador I slapped him across the face and arched a brow, repeating the words, "does ROME ring any bells to you?". Then I said we should abduct Putin. No one knew what I was talking about. *Sigh* Putin, your pale muscles and steely smile will have to wait. But this kid kept waving his hand and flipping the collar of his pink (salmon pink to be exact) polo like he knew.

He didn't know. 

And Italian is awesome. I'm actually learning Italian. 

English is taught by a BC graduate who is probably only three years older than me....Don't get me started...

And theatre class? It's pissing me off. Why? I have no idea. Probably because everything this chick is yappin' about is shit I ALREADY KNOW. And have done. Whatever. Easy 'A'. 

Today we had our convocation. A gathering of the class of 2013 plus a guest speaker. Our speaker was the author of An Unreasonable Woman, Diane Wilson. It was our summer reading book...no one (including me) read it...it's about the politics of shrimping....yeeeeah...

The Convocation was held at Bellermine Manor, an ancient establishment that's been on the grounds of Fairfield longer than the actual college has been there. It's walls are a combination of dusted stone, stained dark grays and blacks, each surface polished until it shines as if coated by a fresh veil of rain. It's spires kiss the sky and its windows reflect images older than a majority of the staff--images of celebrations held in the great North Wing and polo matches outside on the finely cut lawn. Ancient crests and seals of forgotten family members flanked the high walls, professing pride in a blood line that probably no longer exists. Gargoyles crouched at the corners of the building, their mouthes gaping open and teeth curling inward. When it rains, I'm told the water flows from their mouthes and down to the grass, essentially watering it. Also, the man whose said to have originally occupied the massive house was an old philosopher, a man with a mysterious past and a criminal record, apparently. Something about stabbing whores but...we don't judge. God always forgives. Right, Jesuits? 

It was a sunny day and the thick, hazy bands of sunlight bounced off the windows and shimmered over the heated grass, making my ass sweat like no other. Bees fleetingly hung about but soon enough it become too hot even for them. Butterflies were committing suicide by ramming themselves into the building and podium. White chairs were set out for the students and we all grudgingly took our seats, myself perched between a friend named Ashley and a very quiet girl whose name I never actually got. 

A stone lion, its twin parallel to it, sat proudly upon a column that graced the carved steps, the path leading up towards a raised dais where fourteen wooden thrones sat, each one carved with a biblical image. 

I felt like I was gonna fucking meet the Pope (*coughAKAChancellorPalpatinecough*)

That damn lion kept staring and I swear the heat was getting to me because at one point I told Ashley that it had blinked. 

Next music began to play from, like, NOWHERE and down the main aisle walked the fourteen heads of college (their official name is the 'Upper Panel'). They were dressed in flowing black robes, their various loops of silk and pointed hats displaying numerous degrees of education. One man wore a yellow silk hat, its color matching that of the fur-trimmed sash that crossed over his chest. The president of the college led the procession, his hands grasping a silver scepter (no. joke.) that sparkled in the dying-summer heat. Around his neck hung the largest white-gold medallion I have ever seen, its face stamped with the seal and crest of Fairfield University. 

With the way this was looking, I half expected Professors Snape and McGonagall to be taking up the rear of the procession. It seriously looked like Hogwarts had invaded Fairfield. First Bellermine Manor and now this? Naturally, I was having my own little victory. 

The teachers sat down, each in his or her own wooden throne and a girl from the glee club appeared with a mic and proceeded to sing the national anthem. Secondly the head of the english department and my personal advisor for my creative writing major (a very scholarly older gentleman, definitely the type who would sit in his office and translate ancient tomes from old forgotten languages into english) spoke. And OH!

Speaking of mysterious, while the head of the college of arts and sciences spoke, a priest sat next to me. And God help me...but this priest...this priest...

He wore his typical black attire and Roman collar. And don't think ill of me but...this priest was the Ewan Freakin' McGregor of the papacy. He had smooth skin and the softest pair of grey eyes I have ever seen. The world was in his stormy eyes, as if he possessed wisdom far beyond his young-ish years. His hair was dark and he was clutching an ancient, 1st edition copy of Don Quixote. He features were sharp and his chin clean shaven. He sat with grace and every movement his seemingly well toned body made was focused and intended. He placed a hand on the empty chair that sat between me and him (the girl had gotten up and run away to her own friends) and around his middle finger sat a fat gold ring, stamped in semi-precious stones to create the Vatican's crest--the keys and tassel. I leaned in and told him I liked his book. He turned his head to look at me and GAWD ALLLLLLMIGHTY I had to hold myself back from melting. He somehow held such a presence--the very air around him crackled with knowledge and a sharp wit, almost. 

Don't ask me how I figured this all out--I'm a creative writing major. I notice detail.

Him: "You like it?"

Me: *squeak* "Yes. One of my favorites." 

Him: "One of mine as well." -Nods to head of college speaking- "How long is this going to last?"

Me: *laugh* "Too long. Aren't...aren't you hot, Father...?" (all of you reading, stop laughing. I meant TEMPERATURE wise.)

Him: "Campbell. Father Campbell. I've just arrived from Glasgow. I'll be relieving some of Father von Arch's Sunday masses...And yes. I am incredibly warm." -big smile- "And you are?"

Me: "Fiona Barbour."

Father Campbell: "Fiona? Am I to guess that I am not the only person of Scottish blood on this campus?"

Me: "Ahh...I'm Irish."

Campbell: "Shame." -winks-

Me: "Heh..."

I am so going to Hell. 

ANYWAYS. That Diane Wilson woman spoke for an hour and a half. I slept. So did Father Campbell, his arm still clutching that edition of Don Quixote. Afterwards I went home (gah, my dorm room is now home. That's odd) and took a three hour nap. It was freakin' glorious. 

Then came the night. Pre-gamed at a friend's dorm and room-hopped. Drank a beer or two and a cup of Jack & coke but the night was young and my buzz was nothin' so we headed to a townhouse where a few friends of a friend were throwin' a hella sick party. To make a long story short, we were there for ten minutes, crowded into a tiny apartment with 39 other people when campus security pounded on the door.

There was a unanimous freeze throughout the entire apartment--no one moved, no one breathed; they just froze. Silence prevailed for 10 seconds before someone dropped a Smirnoff bottle and hell broke loose. Sliding glass doors were opened at the back of the house and people began spilling from them. 

I continuously shouted, "IT'S THE FLUFF!!!!!!!!!!!!" about ten times as I squeezed past junior rugby players, freshman girls unfortunately wearing heels and Long Island guidos. Much like the stampede that killed Mufasa, the group of 35 to 45 people trampled down the grassy hill to the dorms on main campus, everyone wielding their keys and swipe-cards to get into the buildings. It was epic, exhilarating, dangerous and hella fun. ;D Soon after, I decided to turn in because there was nothing else going on and my buzz had been killed. Fail. 

Well, there's always tomorrow night.

Last night was epic as well--A group of ten girls (including moi, and now known as the Sawk Group) room-hopped in all five dorms and got smashed. We raced across floors, did shots of Skyy, Jack and Smirnoff, ate chex mix, sang Miley Cyrus (I know, we're awesome), collected numbers, bummed cigarettes and told crappy jokes. The night ended with us playing duck-duck-goose in the middle of the quad at 1:30 in the morning. It was bawla. I was pulled away from the festivities early though (early=1:45) by a phone call that I had to take. ;D

Well...those have been my days. I survived my first week of college and now I'm starting off my first weekend. 

I'm excited.

Are you? :)

I'll post again tomorrow.

I Trade in Earthquakes for Hurricanes.

So.

I've been in college for three nights. 

• Of those three nights, I have yet to return to my room by midnight. By three thirty even. 
  
• Of those three nights, my number has been asked for and/or given to over twenty people of the opposite sex...
  
• Of those three nights, only one of them was spent in my own bed...
  
• Of those three nights, I've consumed more vodka than 1990s Russia. And more beer than County Cork and County Wexford, Ireland, combined. 
• Of those three nights, I've made about 100 new friends. 
  

Man, I love college. 

But in all honesty, I miss California so much. I miss the dry heat, and the way my hand tingled when I held it out of the window while I drove down the Silverado Trail, the mountains shimmering on either side of me. I miss working out at Meadowood and laying by the pool. I miss walking down Main Street and seeing movies in the tiny Cameo theatre. I miss eating at (the original) Taylor's with Cherry. I miss that long, exciting drive to Sonoma I took practically four times a week to see my friends along the Square, eating ice cream at Ben & Jerry's and house hopping. I miss seeing movies with Tutti and dancing the night away in San Francisco with Merik, flanked by debutantes. I desperately miss Donna and Ollie ("...can he swim?") and Romeo (RIP). I miss my parties in Le Guesthouse and all those...adventures whilst staying there (I'll save those for another post). I miss my parents and my doggie and kitty (despite the evil glares). 

I miss a lotta things. But despite missing all of them, my love and excitement about FU is steadily outgrowing my little ball of worry and homesickness. Thank Gawd. 

Orientation was a slow, painful mindfuck of panels and speeches by directors, deans and presidents. But in between sessions on alcohol abuse and skits by the resident improv troup (Your Mom Does Improv), I was able to meet a multitude of awesome, kick ass people. 

Anyways, I shall be chronicling my life at college. I've wanted a blog since I was 12 when I started watching Carrie Bradshaw write her column on Sex & the City. So...success! :)

Today was my first day of classes. A statistics class at eight o'clock in the morning is NAWT something I normally look forward to. But, all in all, it wasn't bad. Teacher's nice and understanding, very manageable and promises not to put a huge work load on us. Plus, we won't have a mid-term in that class. ;D

NEXT from 12:30-1:45 I was SUPPOSED to have intro to theatre (do these people KNOW ME?!). Well...I got lost. When you think of a theatre class, wouldn't you assume it to be in the THEATER? Well...it wasn't. It was in an obscure room at the edge of campus. Very sketchy for a campus that is usually perfect, green, rich-looking and VERY east coasty. Anyways, forty five minutes of searching until I had blisters on my feet and a headache made me very grumpy. I was very late to the class (thankfully, the professor understood. She was very nice about it when I apologized after class) and actually found the damn place after a very kind upper classman gave me good directions (the librarian didn't know shit). 

Chloe caught the entire conversation via AT&T. 

Tomorrow is International Relations and Italian. I'll keep y'all informed. 

I shall catch up on the previous two nights and the one coming up in a later post. For now I'm meeting the fabulous and hella (wicked? Mad?) badass Cait down the hall (GONZAGA HALL, BITCHES!). Hopefully there is a killer movie and Chinese food in our future. :)

Ciao everyone.

Kel & Chloster. I miss you. <3