Author Archives: Mallory

by | June 19, 2008 · 4:35 am

what ever happened to family legacies?

Angry

May I rant?

Apparently, while Pierogi Zbylut was collecting acceptances to every elite school in the country, said elite schools were busy rejecting the rest of the qualified students out there, those students with names containing less z’s. One of the elementary school friends from the Rockies game has a little sister who’s headed off to college next year, and this girl’s college-rejection story makes me truly furious with the way our country deals with college admission. My friend’s sister — let’s call her Emily — was rejected from Dartmouth. Nothing shocking on its own; I’m among the ranks of prospective Ivy Leaguers who was flat-out rejected from the Big Green. Emily, however, was the the valedictorian of her high school (one of those truly hard high schools that have difficult admissions processes all their own), was a successful two-sport athlete who was being recruited by Dartmouth, was involved in a million activities, AND had a father, sister, and several cousins whose brains were filled with knowledge in Hanover, New Hampshire. Now I understand as much as anyone that the college admissions process is a crapshoot, and that there are a ton of factors that go into it, but SERIOUSLY? If a girl like that isn’t a shoe-in, something’s wrong. Maybe Pierogi can pass his Dartmouth acceptance on to Emily, since he won’t be needing it at Haaahvahd.

For a speech class I took a couple of years ago, I spoke about kids growing up too fast (taking full-time language classes at age four, for instance), and I feel like the college admissions process is just part of the screwed up way we are forcing kids these days to do everything and be perfect. A high school student shouldn’t have to spend all of her free time studying for AP tests, captaining a sports team, working on a student government campaign, volunteering with refugees, and curing cancer just to get into college. Give ’em some time to breathe, America. 

And to the Emily’s of the world: it’s their loss. Anyway, I hear New Hampshire’s like really, really cold.

[Posted by Mallory]

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by | June 18, 2008 · 3:46 pm

quasimodo loves him some cry face.

Today begins Six Words To Change the World’s first weekly feature: the Hump Day Cry Face. Nothing helps inch you a little closer to the weekend like a good Cry Face. In front of Notre Dame. Enjoy.

[Posted by Mallory]

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by | June 18, 2008 · 3:13 pm

solo cab rides are pretty lonely.

Collegeee

So last night I went out with two of my friends from elementary school (look at the longevity there). We went to a Rockies game, which is always a good time, and then stopped by a bar to see another friend’s band play. Various events in the night got me slightly freaked out about this whole being-an-adult thing (that is, if you consider living at home, temping as a receptionist, and still making bad decisions with alarming frequency being an adult). For starters, at the baseball game we sat in front of these obnoxious kids (including boys who were wearing strangely short shorts) who felt the need to comment on every aspect of the game, and loudly say things like “Should we take the shooters now?” I was blissfully happy eating my burrito, drinking my Coors Light, and staring at the mountains, so I was more entertained than annoyed by these strangers, but from an objective perspective, I could see that they were irritating as hell. My friends and I joked about this and laughed at the antics of these young hooligans, and then I realized…that was me. And I’m not talking that was me like waaay back in college a month ago, but that was me approximately a week ago, at a different Rockies game. People like that aren’t exactly loved by the rest of the population. How long can I get away with shit like this?

After it was clear that the Rockies were going to win (take THAT, Cleveland), we went to the bar to watch my friend’s band play. The band turned out to be awesome, and it was generally a great time. One of the highlights of this little concert was watching the hammered parents of the band members acting like college students, which means they were dancing on tables and making out in corners. This seems to answer the earlier question with a resounding “You can get away with shit like this for a long time! You can get blacked out on a Tuesday and grind up on strangers even when you have children of your own!” And even though I assume, if I’m being honest with myself, that I probably will be one of those parents one day, it still doesn’t seem quite right.

So after watching these drunk adults for a few hours, my elementary school friends left and I decided against my better judgement to stay for a while. After dancing like a hippie to the next band, whose lead singer had one of the greatest Jewfros I’ve ever seen, I started thinking I should go home, and I called a cab. Because my other friends didn’t have important things like filing invoices and answering phones to do the next day, they decided to stay. Which means I had to take a cab home alone. Now, I’m not the type of person who necessarily hates being alone, but I felt self-conscious and pathetic hopping into that yellow sedan all by my lonesome. I knowww that adults do that sometimes — I’ve seen it in the movies — but I didn’t like it.

As much I want to end this bit of rambling with a Carrie Bradshaw-esque conclusion that ties this all together with a neat analogy and an “I couldn’t help but wonder,” (i.e., “And I couldn’t help but wonder…was my fear of being alone in the cab indicative of a larger fear of being alone…forever?), I really don’t know where I’m going with this. I think part of me is still devastated that a night out is no longer a trip to a campus bar where everybody knows your name, you can pay for beer on your meal plan, and you can walk home in five minutes. I’m also not entirely sure what I can do with this borderline-alcoholism that we all pick up in college now that I’m (GASP) not in college. On the weekends, when my drink of choice is still a whiskey coke in shady water bottle form, it’s easier to pretend that nothing’s changed. But this whole “work” thing, this whole “growing up” thing, is really cramping my style. Thank god for grad school.

[Posted by Mallory]

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by | June 17, 2008 · 12:57 am

john mccain, you silly old man.

McCain

So that I actually feel informed on the seemingly overwhelming world of politics, I have a couple of daily briefings emailed to me. One of these is MSNBC’s First Read. In their afternoon email today, a particular issue caught my eye. McCain (who, according to the above photo, is also an irritating fist-pumper) had scheduled a fundraiser at the home of Texas oil man Clayton Williams, the man who in 1990 said about rape, “It’s like the weather, if it’s inevitable, relax and enjoy it.” Um, yeah. Well even though this was a HUGE issue back in 1990, made national news, and essentially killed Williams’ campaign for governor of Texas, McCain claims that he and his staffers didn’t know about the controversial comment. (More on that here; I’m not the expert, these guys are.) Also, according to MSNBC, “the word ‘rape’ is in the title of the third link that comes up in a ‘Clayton Williams’ Google search.” In McCain’s defense, he’s like 300 years old and is probably still figuring out how to send an email.

[Posted by Mallory]

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by | June 16, 2008 · 9:08 pm

rocco, you’re a winner to me.

Rocco

Well, looks like the Fist Pumper got the best of my beloved Rocco. Did I cry? Yes. But did I shake off my sadness by watching YouTube clips of people falling? Yes. I think Rocco would have wanted it that way. Mr. Mediate, for making me like golf for two full days, you deserve the highest honors, and your name is carved on the winner’s trophy in my heart. (Too much?)

It was fun while it lasted, and I’ve got to agree with Barbara Barker in this Newsday article when she says that “your interest has to be piqued by a guy bold enough to wear a peace symbol on his belt buckle while playing in front of a conservative country club audience.” Cheers, Rocco. Go home to your three children (this, I believe, has been confirmed) and your beautiful wife (still not certain about that one, but it makes me feel better to imagine that he has a wife to go home to).

And for the record, PGA Tour website? When you include a “personal” section about your players, we lady fans might like to see something a little more personal than just where they went to college. Marital status? Callaway-sponsored boxers or briefs? Alcoholic beverage of choice? That sort of thing.

[Posted by Mallory]

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by | June 16, 2008 · 4:28 am

to peace, love, and rocco mediate.

Unlike my father, I am no great lover of golf. True, I did once play on my high school’s golf team, but that was a bit of a joke, and my main memories of that era involve eating a lot of candy and doing things on a golf course that would shame my father. Anyway, perhaps as a tribute to dear ol’ dad, I watched the end of the U.S. Open today. Now I’m the type of person who can very quickly get emotionally involved in a sporting event. I may not know much about Tiger Woods besides that he’s in a lot of commercials and is really, really good at golf, but when they showed dramatic clips from Saturday of him clutching his knee and making those impossible shots, with voiceovers of him talking about his father, I got a little teary. After that clip, however, my heart belonged to Rocco Mediate. With a name like that and a peace sign for a belt buckle, there was no way I could not be in love. And he was so jolly!

As I watched until the nerve-wracking end, I had visions of Rocco celebrating his win, weeping as he hugged and kissed his beautiful wife and children (which of course he has). And on Father’s Day! It would have been beautiful. Instead, Mr. Big Shot just haaaad to make his putt, forcing poor 45-year-old Rocco to play another 18 holes the next day. Although I didn’t know Rocco’s name until earlier today, I found myself borderline depressed when Tiger made that shot and did his irritating fist pump. For the sake of the underdog, peace, and really cool names, I hope Rocco can clinch it. Everyone loves a Cinderella story, especially yours truly.

[Posted by Mallory]

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by | June 12, 2008 · 3:15 am

cry face WILL change the world.

Ladies and gentlemen, pimps and players, allow me to introduce you to the Cry Face.
 
Cry Face is a little thing a friend of mine invented accidentally back in high school when she was so cold that she actually felt like crying. Until my sophomore year in college, the Cry Face lay dormant, waiting to be released to the world. For no reason in particular, one night my friend Katie challenged me to get everyone I met that night to do the Cry Face. When we realized a) how ridiculous all people look while doing a Cry Face and b) how willing even strangers are to make this strange face and then be photographed, we knew this thing had potential. For the next few years, it was my personal mission to get as many people as I could to do Cry Face.
 
Boys wearing oxfords love Cry Face:

 
 
Asians love Cry Face:

The Crnkovich family (at their annual reunion) loves Cry Face:

Huge groups of people visiting Italian tourist destinations love Cry Face:

And you know what? I think even God loves the Cry Face (yes, that is the Vatican. I swear my dad is a good enough Catholic that he’s still protected from eternal damnation):

Okay, I think you get the idea. But don’t think there won’t be more where that came from. There are dozens of other photos waiting to be shared with the world.
 
When Cry Face first started getting big (and strangers began emailing me photos of their friends doing Cry Face), I started to think, hey, I could make a book of Cry Faces! It’s the kind of book that would be sold at Urban Outfitters, that customers would read and enjoy while waiting in line, but would never actually shell out the $14.95 to bring it home to put on their coffee tables. Thanks to Al Gore’s invention of the Internet, it is much easier to share Cry Face with the masses. My long-term goal? That you, you eventual millions of readers, will share your Cry Faces with Kathleen and me through this blog. Send us your best photos of you, your friends, your favorite celebrity, or your co-worker’s great-grandmother rocking the Cry Face. Extra points always go to large groups or those doing Cry Face in an inappropriate place (see Vatican, above). I swear, this thing’s going to change the world.

[Posted by Mallory]

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by | June 10, 2008 · 9:47 pm

confession: i was once a charlotte.

Or at least I had a t-shirt that said I was. I was once among the proud millions to own a shirt proclaiming my “unique” Sex and the City personality. I ordered the cheaply made light pink shirts for myself and my friend Kelsey (who, in my defense, really IS Charlotte, down to the high-pitched shrieking in the presence of a baby) in the height of our SATC obsession. It was the high school days, when, embarrassingly, the weekends were most often spent with a pint (or two…) of Ben and Jerry’s and a six-episode SATC DVD.

The funny thing is, I never really was a Charlotte. Sure, maybe (especially in high school), I was a leeeetle prude, but as a thirteen-year attendee of Catholic school, I certainly never was a WASP. And by now, I probably have as much whore/bitchy lawyer/neurotic writer in me as the next girl. I guess what I’m trying to say is, I think Kathleen’s right.

And for the record: you can now purchase my “I’m a Charlotte” t-shirt at a Denver Goodwill for about $1.00. It’s a great deal, people: it was never worn.

[Posted by Mallory]

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by | June 9, 2008 · 2:58 pm

six words to change the world.

Whenever I read a blog that isn’t wildly successful — one that’s started by an average person simply because they wanted to write — I love to see them articulate why they started a blog. Based on my highly scientific research, I’ve found that most people started blogging simply because they wanted to. (A sophisticated observation, I know.) Blogging provides something to do, and it connects you with a larger world. People just want to share a little of themselves, and thanks to the Internet, it’s pretty easy to do that these days. I also think most people secretly (or not so secretly) imagine that their blog will make them ridiculously wealthy and famous and that they can quit their real job and work exclusively in the afternoon, while wearing sweatpants.

Kathleen and I would be lying if we said our motivations weren’t pretty much the same as everyone else’s. Both of us like to write, both of us have a lot of opinions, and both of us love blogs. We’re the ones who truly enjoy a snarky comment on Wonkette, the ones who secretly wish we were Heather and Jessica from Go Fug Yourself, the ones who g-chat each other instantly when there’s a new post on Stuff White People Like. And neither of us would complain if blogging led to a life where we worked from an amazing penthouse apartment in D.C. and pranced around in fancy pajamas drinking gin and tonics in the middle of the day, occasionally pausing to write a mind-blowingly witty and insightful blog entry. Neither of us are actually banking on this happening, but hey, a girl can dream.

So while Kathleen was bored at home, and I was bored temping as a receptionist, we starting g-chatting about blogs. A friend of ours from college had recently started one, and both of us confessed that we had toyed with the idea in the past. While helping each other brainstorm about our own potential blogs, I threw out the idea that we write one together. About 3 seconds later, Kathleen said that she loved the idea, and here we are.

A word about the title of this blog. Right before we graduated from college about a month ago, I discovered a book called Not Quite What I Was Planning: Six Word Memoirs From Writers Famous and Obscure. The idea of the book is to challenge people to pen their own six-word memoirs, a challenge to which my friends and I have become addicted. It’s thrilling to whittle a scenario, or a life, down to only six words. One of my favorite examples from the book is Stephen Colbert’s: “Well, I thought it was funny.” Simply because it’s fun, we wanted to incorporate the idea of the six-word memoir into our fledgling blog. And with a nod to each of our idealistic natures (I’m going into conflict resolution, Kathleen breathes politics), we threw in the “change the world” part. Because we each hope we can, with or without the blog.

[Posted by Mallory]

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