2% Club

My mom just sent me this survey, where the last thing you are supposed to think of is a red hammer. Apparently 98% of people think of a red hammer at the end of this survey, but 2% of people think of different things. My mom and I are part of the 2% Club. She thought of an orange wrench, because she had been plumbing all day. I thought of a yellow wrench because I had been working in the theatre all day. I know you want to hear about it, so on we go.

It was a pretty easy day at the Eisenhower Auditorium. Or rather, it would have been easy if we had done things correctly. I have reached a point in my working where the big bosses are trusting me with more and more tasks. I know my way around, which keys unlock which locks, where all the lights hang, and how to reach the charts. Unfortunately, that means I am being trusted with unsupervised tasks.

I was put in charge of cabling the second electric, which basically means I had to go along and plug the lights in. Having never been in charge before, I went along and did the job I always do, not realizing there were two other jobs that need to be done at the same time. Along comes Gary, just as mad as can be that all the lights are plugged in, but nothing is labeled. To be fair, I had begun labeling the wires, but the job was taking longer because I hadn't labeled as I went. After he broke all the connection, he made us start the wiring all over again and label as we went. There's twenty minutes wasted right there. Unfortunately, Gary hadn't paid attention to the configuration of things, and we ended up with an extra plug on one end and no plug on the other end. He remedied this by bringing in a whole separate cable for the lonely unplugged light.

Margo has never been in charge of stacking the x-ray lights on their cart, but she was put in charge of it this time. Is Gary just getting lazy? She and I watched Susan stack the other cart, and we followed whatever they were doing. Unfortunately, one of the lights near the bottom was so slightly off-center that by the time we reached the top of the stack (about 5 lights up), the lights were toppling at a rapid rate. Susan didn't want to unstack everything and start over, so we put the safety cable on and let them be. Big mistake for putting them back up the next day. Susan took off the safety cable, and just about crushed herself underneath a stack of lights. We had to unstack the whole thing right there while she held them up instead of doing things the easy way.

After last week's fiasco of taking the chairs off and lining them up in the wrong order, a 45-minute fiasco, I'm surprised Susan and Gary trust us with anything. They never learn.

Bo Burnam in Concert

Not sure if you've heard, but there is a young comedian by the name of Bo Burnam who is taking the internet by force. While he is most famous for the song "Helen Keller is my perfect woman," I prefer "New Math." I find him quite hilarious, but some may find his humor crude or irreverent, so exercise caution if you feel the need to look him up.

I was lucky I even discovered this free concert. It was featured in Penn State's student newspaper on page 6 in a brief notice of the day's events. How could this possibly be? A great comedian like Bo Burnam on page 6? The article said he'd be on for about an hour from 9:30 to 10:30-ish, admission was free, and the SPA was expecting around 500 students to attend.

Immediately, I called James and Jacob to tell them we would be going to that concert. Of course, the boys made me late so we had to stand in the very back. More than 500 people showed up, so not enough seats were available and a lot of people were standing in the back.

I laughed so hard. He is even more funny in person. The highlight of the show was a man walking in fifteen minutes late and taking a seat in the third row. Bo stopped what he was playing to ask "Where were you?" "Uh...across campus," said the man. Bo replied, "That's really vague. Where were you?" "In the Willard Building," said the man. Bo replied, "Across campus? That's, like, across the street." (Willard is practically across the street.) "So what were you doing in the Willard Building?" "Rehearsing," said the man. Bo replied, "Rehearsing what?" "Improv," said the man. "Rehearsing improv? Dude, you don't rehearse improve. That's the point." I had a good laugh throughout, but especially at this point. Bo continued on his rant about this man showing up late because he was across the street rehearsing improv.

My second favorite part was when he looked over his should, gasped, jumped, and pointed to his shadow. "I thought it was a black man." Looking around, we realized there were not actually any black people in the audience, which he pointed out later in one of his songs. "Now just the black people sing it..." There were five second of laughter, followed by, "Guess I'm not popular with the minorities."



After the show, in which Bo Burnam played all our favorite songs, he did a little meet and greet with the audience. I got to meet him long enough for my five second photo shoot and a few sentences about his comfort level with being touched by strangers. He's fine with it, but his girlfirend might mind. Bo is much taller in person. He doesn't look so tall on the internet, but he's a good six and a half feet tall. You can tell by how far he had to bend over just to get in the same picture with me.

It was a good night and I had a great time.

The Russian Ballet

As many will remember, I work part-time at the Eisenhower Theatre on my university campus. It's an odd job, and I'm never entirely sure what to expect. Every show is different, every day is busy, and everyone is strange.

I had the opportunity to work for the State Ballet Theatre of Russia's production of Cinderella. Never having read the original Cinderella story, I can't tell how accurate this depiction was. As it stands, I didn't comprehend most of the scenes.

First of all, this show was put on by a Russian company. All the production staff spoke Russian, every dancer spoke Russian, and all they had was a single interpreter named Olga who probably knew the instructions by heart. The production staff knew about five words of English each. The guy in charge of hanging and adjusting backdrops knew "Up, down, please, okay," for example. Other departments were equally as helpful. Because of the language barrier, the Russians found it easier to do the work themselves rather than go through the process of explaining it to us through Olga. We spent most of the day (after hanging curtains) sitting in the crew lounge.

At one point, a fellow came up to Margo and I, speaking in rapid and altogether incomprehensible Russian. He indicated to the dryers we have on the loading dock and wrung his shirt in his hands. Margo tried explaining to him that she had no idea what he was saying or needing. He kept on with his wild gestures until Margo led him to the washing machines around the corner, which are in the crew lounge. He did at least four loads of laundry throughout the day. Each time he needed to change a load, he would wander into the lounge, chatting to us in Russian and smiling all the while. Neither of us understood the other, but he was a pleasant fellow. When he finished, he would bow his head and force a very gruff "Tank Joo."

I was in charge of running spotlight for this show, which is a very easy job. Normally, we are given a script or a cue sheet as a courtesy but hardly use it because we are told by the stage manager what we have to do as we go along. Olga gave me a cue sheet with prompt like "When Cinderella dances alone, light her," or "When Cinderella and Prince duet, light together and apart." I shrugged it off, thinking there would be a stage manager telling me what to do.

I forgot the only person who knew what was going on spoke only Russian. Margo and I were up in the spotlight booth the entire time trying to figure what the cues meant. "Is it when Cinderella stops dancing, or is it when everyone else leaves the stage?" "Which one is the prince? They are all in white!" "Where is the shoe supposed to land?" The most complicated, and by far the worst, was trying to spot Cinderella when the gnomes (I have no idea why there were gnomes in the Cinderella story) were supposed to throw her into the air 12 times. We weren't told she would switch costumes halfway through and we would have to find her. Oh, that was terrible.

Loading all their equipment was just as fun as setting it up. There was one burly man who looked like he could run a mafia, and his vocabulary consisted of "Daat. Truck," supplemented by pointing to what he wanted moved onto the truck. At one point, he asked Trudeau "Forklift?" Confused, Trudeau grabbed a flatcart for him, and said "No forklift, just a cart." After five minutes of insane waving and mixed Engish, Trudeau finally figured out the man wanted the elevator to retrieve boxes from the basement.

A crew call that probably could have been done in two hours took from 8:00 a.m. until 4:30 p.m. It took a minimum of five minutes for any of us to figure what the Russians wanted, and another ten to show them where, when, or how. It was a long day, but was full of good humor.

Christmas Happenings

My mom sent me a box of decorations for my apartment. I never actually got a tree, and I have nothing tree like in or around my house. Now, many of my neighbors have put their strands of light out on their porch handrails and/or back decks. I decided that would not put my house in the Christmas spirit at all, so I decorated my living room lamp in place of a Christmas tree. I love it.


As far as my Christmas goes, it was entirely uneventful. I live in a college town, so the majority of our population left on December 17th to go home and celebrate with their families. Living over 2,000 miles away and being a starving college student, I thought it better to stick around and work instead. My boyfrind, my neighbors, and all of my friends have left for better things.

The day was not entirely lost. After cleaning the last of the mess in the kitchen left by my neighbors, my very messy yet lovable neighbors, I made the best cup of hot cocoa on the planet. I am running on limited resources with a time limit, because I am trying to use the food my neighbors left before it expires. I whipped the rest of the half-and-half left from their coffee, heated up the last of the milk in the fridge, mixed in both chocolate bars and powdered mix, blended in a few sprigs of fresh mint, added a dollop of whipped cream, and a small stream of chocolate syrup on top for effect. It was very rich, but incredibly delicious.



I spent the rest of the day baking a homemade feast fit for the greatest royalty. Most of my time was used in making a loaf of homemade white bread, which is worth the while. After getting that set up and ready to rise, I made a beef pot pie with whatever was left in the fridge: potatoes, carrots, celery, garlic, peas, and corn. It was so incredibly hearty, andd the crust turned out absolutely perfect. A few quick sides while those two baked: applesauce and stuffing. It was the best meal I have eaten in a while.



It was a lot of work for a single person meal, but I was so very pleased with it. I ate until I couldn't move. I called a few of my family members, and a few of them called me. I bragged about my resourceful cooking, and we chatted about life on opposite sides of the country. I had a tame Christmas, but it has been a relaxing holiday.

They Physics Department

For some reason, Penn State Physics hates everyone. They make everything difficult, complicated, and unreasonably strict. As demonstrated by the photo above, they even build stairs in the most ridiculous patterns. What happened to the stairs that stuck to the walls the entire way down?

With two weeks left in the semester, I am really feeling the pressure. I have an exam tonight, and I am not entirely positive what it will cover. I will be working on the practice exam all day, so I should be able to do at least part of it.

I don't study enough. I should really sit down with my textbooks more often. Sure, every single one of my classes has required homework, but I don't learn as much from that as I feel I should be learning for exams and things.

I guess I'm just feeling really frustrated, not having internet off campus. My laptop is broken, and Kalen just told me this is a problem that Toshiba will have to fix, and I will probably need to send it back to the factory. I hate staying on campus after classes, because I am already pushing 10 hours of working at that point, and I would really like to cuddle up in my bed at night and study in the comfort of my own room, with music blaring, the television going, food on the stove, and immediate access to the bathroom.

I feel hungry all the time, because, like I said, I stay at school for 10 hours at a time. If I eat breakfast in the morning, I still won't get dinner for another 11-13 hours, depending on how long the bus ride takes, and whether I go home directly after classes. I would love to carry a lunch with me, but my backpack already weighs as much as I, and I am most positive that ramen noodles or cereal would not travel well. That's pretty much all the food I have left at this point, because I never have time to go shopping.

I am ready for the end of the semester.

Billions of Cookies

It just so happens that my neighbors are friends with my boyfriend. Because of this fact, I spend a lot of time over at there house. I tend to believe that all college boys are starving, and those guys love that.

Three weeks ago, we decided to try a recipe for pumpkin rolls, which I found on the internet.
Libby's Pumpin Roll
http://www.verybestbaking.com/recipes/detail.aspx?ID="32372"


My mom always make treats like this with freshly pureed pumpkin from the garden, so I convinced the boys that they should go buy a pumpkin and we would do this the organic way. The first time is always difficult.

One of the challenges of pureeing a pumpkin is using a blender rather than a food processor. I was using one of their plastic spatulas to push the chunks of cooked pumpkin into the blades. Only Mom would have guessed that I got the spatula caught in the blades, spraying pumpkin puree 10 feet in all directions.

Aside from picking a few chunks of spatula from the puree, it all went very well, until I realized the recipe called for 2/3 cup of pumpkin, and we had 3 entire Tupperware containers full to the rim, after baking the roll. Therefore, November has been declared pumpkin month.

So far, we have baked no less than six pumpkin rolls. Quite frankly, the boys are nearly getting sick of them. Instead, we baked a double batch of pumpkin cookies. I would guess four and a half dozen in all, but let's be honest. Most of them were eaten before I could even get them off the pan. There are still a good dozen and a half left, though.

Three weeks and seven desserts later, I still have one full container of pumpkin puree. We are researching other forms into which it can be made. Desserts are getting a little tiresome. Entrees, sides, drinks, lip balms. Anything to rid ourselves of one last container.

Long story short, any suggestions would be much appreciated.

Greek Sing Made My Ears Bleed.

I am not entirely sure who thought it would be a good idea to let fraternities sing and sororities dance in front of respectable people, but that person should be thrown out a window. Greek Sing was the worst experience of my life.

What it is:
Greek Sing was started as performance opportunity for fraternities and sororities to show off their musical talents. It is held annually every fall.

What it isn't:
Any good at all. I was forced to sit through two days of listening to frats and sororities perform shortened versions of musicals full of bad singing, bad acting, and bad dancing. I wanted to die by the end of it.

Why it matters:
It funds some lame scholarship for some lame frat boy or sorostitute who is the best at being "Greek." (What is that, anyway? Best at being drunk?)

Why they made me go:
I had to work the light board for the shows. Which meant I had to pay attention the entire time. I think I wasted my weekend. I sold it by the hour.