We like sportz and we don't care who knows!

Great news....I am back from hiatus, and I have enough material in my mind to at least double the current number of posts in this widely-read little blog. While I was gone I was doing all of the things a responsible college senior does. This means I have interviewed for many jobs and accepted a position for next year, been highly dedicated to making the most out of my last year of rowing, and have remained diligent with my schoolwork, all while prioritizing going out and drinking. (Only one fragment of the last sentence is true.)

Introductions aside, this post is about sports.

For the unlucky few I have not forced this (arguably the greatest Lonely Island Creation of all-time) upon, your aforementioned luck has just run out. Observe:

Genius.

With the recent success of Buffalo Sports teams, I have been walking on air lately. Until the Bills excruciating loss to the Giants last weekend, that is, but that's a blip on the radar. To the surprise of...let's face it...EVERYONE, the Bills are 4-2, and could easily be 6-0 if not for stupid mistakes. The Sabres have found a savior in new owner, Terry Pegula, who is throwing his money around like my boiiz Weezy and Fat Joe in "Make it Rain", something we never saw under the dark days of the Golisano and Quinn Era. They are also 4-1 on the season. The simultaneous success of both Buffalo sports teams is something special that I wish I could be in town to experience, since it has been a WHILE (due to the Bills constant suckage) since it has happened. I am always on the Sabres bandwagon--everyone I live with probably (definitely) hates the fact that I take full control of the remote control between the hours of 7:30 and 10 four nights a week (Sorry I'm not sorry you can't watch Grey's Anatomy)--but watching the Bills has become so painful over the years that I, along with many, stopped Billieving and stopped watching the games.

 (JP Losman and Trent Edwards, I salute you.)

Now, however, it's a different story. Watching Bills games has become a weekly must again after Week Two, when I knocked my latté over in Olin and (unsuccessfully) stifled yelps of excitement greeted by glares from the surrounding Asian Masses as the Bills beat the Raiders in a thrilling come from behind victory. In the week following every Bills win, my mood is uplifted. Wins from the Sabres boost my mood further, but to a slightly less extreme extent, since games are more frequent, and less important. It's like happy pills....but there are no pills.

Sports dictate my mood. When the Sabres and the Bills are winning, life is good. "Who cares that I didn't do any of my homework and that it's pouring outside and probably going to snow within in the next 3 days?! Not me! The Bills won, and the Sabres are up 3-2" is my mentality on a good day. Losses, however have the opposite effect. Instead of undermining the massive amounts of homework I have less than ample time to complete, molehills quickly become mountains. "Oh my GOD, the Sabres are losing, I have a ONE page assignment due tomorrow, it's WAY TOO LOUD IN THIS HOUSE, and the Thai food I just ordered is 6 minutes late. My life is TERRIBLE," is generally how it goes. Being a Buffalo sports fan, it's hard not to expect to lose. The Buffalo Sports Mentality stems from watching (or enduring, whichever is more appropriate) seasons of a number of teams who should have been great, but found ways to lose. We can see it coming from a mile away. "Oh, there is no way any team could POSSIBLY lose this game....therefore the Bills [Sabres] will find a way to blow it." This has created a massive chip on the shoulders of pretty much everyone from Buffalo, including myself, that extends far beyond sports.

Liking sports, even being from Buffalo, is fun. Especially because drinking and watching sports go hand in hand. When a team wins, it's great! And when they lose, at least there is something to bitch about.

Doing sports, however, is not as fun...Case in Point:

Rowing is a major fun sucker, and the sports mentality imposed on me by the teams I watch has rubbed off on my personal sports "career". I expect something to go wrong at ALL TIMES. When things are going wrong, I cannot help but think that it is only a matter of time before H***** G***** swoops in to ruin my life and snatch my personal defeat from the jaws of victory.

Why do it? Good Question. I am greatly looking forward to my retirement and will, as soon as I am done with this sentence, create a countdown that will tell me the number of days until I can sit back, never row again, lose my rapidly growing shoulder and quad muscles, and watch as the Sabres and Bills inevitably screw themselves over.

Hindsight...it's 20-20

The blog is back.
I know everyone has missed my musings, but inspiration has been lacking. Perhaps the oppressive heat is killing my brain cells, or perhaps I didn't have very many brain cells to begin with. Who knows, I don't think I know what it feels like not to have writer's block.
Luckily for you all, my imagination was sparked recently by a newly acquired accessory: a Von Dutch hat.
 I know, you all are saying to yourselves: "Excuse me, what?! Frances, you have always epitomized style; your choice in clothing consistently leaves me green with envy and I would give anything to trade closets with you! But WTF?! Von Dutch hats were so 2003." Well, at the West Side Rowing Club, where Von Dutch hats are now part of the official Coaches Uniform, shit gets weird and we listen to Whitney Houston and Thursdays at Gordon's will now forever be known as 2 for 1 Von Dutch Hat Thursdays, but that's another story.
We are 300% not serious when we wear our Von Dutch hats (although I'm pretty sure people think we actually still think they are cool), but 8 years ago they were all the rage. As a 7th grader I would do bad, bad things to own a gold metallic piece of plastic with the Von Dutch logo on the front, and you probably would have too. What the hell were we thinking?

Which brings me to the main event:

The Worst Fashion Trends of the 2000's (in no particular order)

1. Von Dutch Hats

Seriously, What the hell? Why did anyone ever think these were cool? Maybe we can thank Paris Hilton for that. Not only is the material cheap as hell (trust me, I now know first hand) but they are hideous and the only people who should ever own one are truckers. 2003 must have been the year of Trailer Park Chic. There is a reason that the price of Von Dutch Hats has gone from $50 in 2003 to 2-for-$4.99 in 2011: THEY ARE HIDEOUS

2. Crocs

I have one friend who will remain nameless (not named Ann Samuelson) that has been known to wear her crocs to parties at Cornell. Other than her, the only people who still wear crocs are 3 year old children and middle aged women who shop at Talbots. They may be comfortable, but OHHHH man are they ugly. Good news, though: You can make them extra cute by sticking the little flower pins they sell into the holes. Spare us all, buy a pair of rainbows instead.

3. Gauchos

I used to think Gauchos were the best thing since sliced bread. I confess to owning multiple pairs, in multiple colors. This picture says it all. Hopefully this is one trend that will never resurface.

4. Ed Hardy 

A clothing line worn exclusively by douchebags: Ed Hardy. When a brand name makes your mind immediately turn to Hulk Hogan, a red flag should be raised. The worst part is, I don't think this trend has totally died....maybe The Situation can confirm that statement for me. Men should not have rhinestones on their T-Shirts, and women should not have motorcycles on theirs. 

5. Juicy Velour Track-Suits

Last but definitely NOT least, The Juicy Track Suit. Comes in every color, and you can choose between cotton, terry cloth, and velour. Mix and match, or wear the same color top and bottom! Don't forget your Von Dutch hat, though, otherwise the trailer trash look won't be complete. Oh, and make sure you order one (or two) sizes down so your fat, fake-tanned stomach hangs out for the world to see.

Fashion is a strange, strange thing. Check back in 9 years for my Worst of the 2010 list, sure to include hair feathers and rompers.

Funky Limelight

Normal?

Definitely not. Among my most prized possessions is my ridiculously large nailpolish collection. (Note: the above picture contains only about half of it...and there are exactly 50 bottles in this photo...but who's counting?) 

The plethora of nailpolish inhabiting the green and white box which has become recognizable to anyone (males excluded) who has stepped in to my house in Ithaca has grown to be something I find it incredibly difficult to live without, for a number of reasons.

Most importantly, having this much nailpolish helps me attract much-needed friends. When people compliment me on my nails I naturally invite them over to use my nailpolish. In exchange for a splash of color, BAM, I get new friends. It's a great trick. 

With these new friends, however, comes the downside of having multiple bottles of nailpolish, usually my favorites, ruined by amateurs who don't know just how tightly one must close a bottle of nailpolish in order to keep it from drying up. This has become one of my biggest pet peeves--along with people burping and stepping on the back of my flip-flops--so never do it to me, unless you want to face my wrath. I will never forget the day I mourned the loss of Wicked, and am offering a reward to anyone who can provide me with information regarding the culprit responsible for its demise. 

Becoming so familiar with nailpolish has also blessed me with an alternative career path if (and by if I mean when) my degree in Political Science doesn't land me a high-paying job in DC. I will boast the only nail salon for miles not under Asian management, which will inevitably lead to success. 

Why do I have so much nailpolish? A great question, which I asked myself this evening as I debated between Mad as a Hatter and Tropical Temptation. I guess (other than the fact that it gives me more friends and gives me a last hope for eventual economic success) it doesn't hurt that it gives me a way to let everyone know what type of mood I'm in. Watch out if I'm sporting dark nails, and don't think it doesn't mean I'm giving you a big "F you," because it does. Ithaca can become so colorless that a bright color can change a day from blah to slightly-less-blah; A difference which any Cornellian will tell you is greatly appreciated in the dismal, grey, raining, Mann Library-filled days of March. 

For anyone who approaches my level of talent for procrastination (read: no one), I highly recommend building your own nailpolish collection. Hours can be spent in almost any store you go to (seriously, you can buy nailpolish anywhere) debating between colors less than a shade apart. When a paper is due, it can be put off for another hour once a chip is spotted on your ring finger.  Foolproof ways to convince yourself that it's ok that you still have 23 pages to write in the next 12 hours.

Wet nails also are a blessing in disguise for the lazy. "Oh, I'm sorry, I can't help with dinner tonight, I totally would...but I just painted my nails and I can't ruin them!" Convenience. 

So..what color do I buy next? 

A big whaddup to my BFF TRISH who has joined me in entering the world of blogging. Check it out...

Trish The Dish

Narcissism? Possibly my middle name, but it's yours too.

Just when I thought I couldn't get any more narcissistic, (ie., one month after joining the wonderful world of twitter, and 21 years after the world was blessed with my presence) and thought I had done it all in publicly promoting my self image, I have pleasantly proven myself wrong once again. There was a time when I thought--and approximately 95% of me may-or-may-not still think--that blogging was the single most pointless and stupid thing to exist (other than the iPad or the Segway scooter, but that is another discussion entirely). Who cares what insignificant human beings find important enough to write about while holed up in their cat-filled, beer can strewn apartments? Not me. Probably not you, either.

But then I realized that since I am so important, everyone cares what I think, so it really makes sense that I post my personal opinions for everyone to see. You're welcome, world. A loud-mouthed, obnoxious, petite, brunette "friend "of mine whose name rhymes with "Doody," and will remain otherwise nameless, expressed wonder that my "narcissism" could know such great bounds that I could possibly create a blog. True, I suppose. Then I got to thinking, since I naturally needed a compelling first blog post that accurately portrays my scathing wit, about narcissism.

Isn't everyone really a narcissist? I mean, besides the troubled few who, like, actually, have problems. The secret narcissist is all around us. Think about it. I have. In fact, I have compiled a list of them: people who the casual observer may write off as being self-sacrificing or not caring about themselves, but under the microscope are as into themselves as Donald Trump sporting a new toupee or Charlie Sheen post mental-snap.

Don't let these people fool you:

The nice guy who works at Starbucks in Ithaca

Sure, he's the nicest guy ever, and totally brightens my day with his cheerful smile every morning when I order my apple fritter and Venti-Upside-down Caramel Macchiato with skim milk, but every time I say skim milk, he's careful to remind me that at Starbucks, it's "non-fat," not skim. Cool it dude, it's not like I said large instead of Venti. Underneath that smile and the heart-warmingly friendly "Thanks, Frances!" it's pretty clear that you think you're some kind of Wolfgang Puck because you're the manager of a Starbucks...in Collegetown...in Ithaca....uh....

The super helpful classmate who explains your homework to you

Unsurprisingly, I don't understand my 23746 page reading on the deepest intricacies of game theory. Also unsurprisingly, you offer to help me "grasp" the concept in "terms that are a little easier to understand." Wow, Thanks, that's so selfless! Actually, you just think you're really smart and want to make sure I know it as you explain game theory to me for the 1,000th time. It's ok, I don't mind you tooting your own horn a little more if it's going to get me a better grade.

The friend who just got a signing bonus for her internship with a huge investment bank

...and buys you alcohol for the weekend as "her treat." Rub it in some more, you will make more money this summer than I will in the next 5 years, and that makes you pity me enough to get me drunk. Free alcohol is always a plus, though. Actually, scratch that, this person is not a secret narcissist--they just signed with an investment bank. They obviously think they are important and want everyone to know it; why else would anyone subject themselves to such misery?

The rich girl whose parents own your bank but still dresses like a hippie

How much did you pay for those feathers in your hair and for those mocs on your feet? And is that a peace sign on the back of your Range Rover? That's what I thought.

The friend who is always there for you to talk, or who holds your hair back when you puke

I see through you, too. You want everyone to gush over what a good friend you are. Puke is kinda gross, though, so props to you.

The guy that everyone thinks is the nicest guy in the world

...and then rips your heart out and doesn't give a crap. This is actually every man, but some are more secretly evil and self motivated than others. 

So, in summary, this is why it's OK for me to make a blog. Everyone is a narcissist. I just choose to broadcast the fact. But the next time someone does something nice for you, look below the surface. There is probably self motivation lurking.